The Interests of Collectives
by Carlyn Roth
Summary: (Far From Their Bones trilogy, Part II) Dark times lie ahead. With the addition of a new crew member, and an even more threatening string of encounters, it becomes clear that Voyager will leave an indelible mark on galactic history. Rating for language, action, and some dark/suggestive themes.
1. Annika

**Annika**

 _Source Episodes: VOY 4x2 The Gift, 4x3 Day of Honor_

* * *

The sterile smell of sickbay filled my nostrils as I sat up against the wall behind the biobed, waiting for my test results. With my head leaned back and my eyes closed, I could let my mind wander freely, flitting from one thing to another like a hummingbird feasting on a vine of trumpet flowers. I had considered bringing some PADDs with me so I could work, but when it came to it, I figured it was best to give myself a break. It had been a difficult past few weeks, and, with a newly-liberated Borg drone still sedated in our surgical bay, I would certainly have my work cut out for me in the months ahead.

In a few days, Harry and I would mark our first full month of marriage. Had it really only been one month? So much had happened in just the past week alone that it seemed like a lifetime ago. We had encountered a species from another dimension of space who was stronger even than the Borg, learned that they intended to destroy our galaxy, allied with the Federation's worst enemy to stop them, and helped to develop a bioweapon of mass destruction that could have annihilated them all.

I frowned at that thought. It was enough to make me question just how far we would go to survive— how far I would go. Ultimately, I had been the one to push for that option, to persuade Captain Janeway that such a plan was the right one. Sure, I had help, but I had championed it harder than anyone.

Me— raised into the altruistic ideals of the Federation, drawn and given to service in peaceful Starfleet, trained to promote mental health and diplomacy among the farthest reaches of known space. Yet when faced with certain death, I fought to justify murder. I told myself it was for the greater good, but it always seemed that my 'greater good' came at the cost of someone else's destruction.

Was this what I became because of the Maquis— a warmonger pushing for genocide? Was I no better than the Kardasi? At least they knew what they were. I had the gaul to call myself a freedom-fighter, but did I really have the right to such a title when that freedom came at such a high price? Was it evil to threaten an entire species with destruction when they had already threatened tens of thousands of species with the same?

I tried to shift topics again, but my mind had become fixated. Of course it would choose self-critical existentialism as its path to focus after such tireless wondering. I thought of Harry and our one month, but my mind replied with questions about how our violations of Starfleet ideals would build up over the years, unchecked because of our isolation. Would there be anything good and pure left in our souls by the time we returned to Federation space?

"Talia?"

I peered through one eye and saw B'Elanna standing just inside the Sickbay doors, clutching a plasma-burned hand and looking at me curiously.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she made her way to the bed next to mine.

In response, I held my left hand out in front on me, palm facing down, to demonstrate the near-constant tremor I had developed. Seeing her confused look, I explained, "Dopamine deficiency. It started when the Prophet left me and moved to Kes, but of course Dr. Skeptic had to perform a bunch of tests to rule out other explanations."

"Aha, I see. Is Kes in?"

I shook my head. "With Alixia. She'll be here later. Plasma conduit spring a leak on you?"

Her lip curled up in a subtle snarl. "Fucking things. They need a refit. Lucky it was just a small leak." She sighed. "I guess I'll just wait then."

"Join the party," I quipped. "How's the _Balth Jaj_ (Day of Honor) holoprogram coming?"

"Great," she replied sarcastically. "My mother taught me all about it when I was little, but I honestly didn't listen. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have let Tom talk me into doing it."

"That bad?" I asked.

"It's a shit-show. _Targh tlq_ (targ heart), _mot'lach_ , painstiks, a _bat'leth_ match—and have you ever read about Gorath?"

"Read about it? I've _been_ there. It's certainly no Risa."

"That's for damn sure. And, really, what's the fucking point of all this ritual anyway? Honor, courage, glory—what does that prove?"

I shrugged. "That you're a good Klingon."

"Well, I'm _not_ a good Klingon," she bit.

I gave her a reassuring smile. "If it's any consolation, I'm not a great Bajoran."

Her voice softened. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I admitted, "yesterday I packed up all of my Bajoran relics and put them into storage—and I might have told the Prophets to fuck themselves as I did."

She snorted. "Wow. Well, I can't really say that I blame you after everything that's happened." She fell silent for several seconds; then, her words came again, hesitant and quiet. "Talia? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She paused to gather her thoughts for a moment before verbalizing them. "Why is Tom being so insistent on me doing this Day of Honor thing? He's not Klingon; he has no reason to care."

I gave her a sympathetic smile. "He cares about you. He knows that you'll try to talk yourself out of it, and he doesn't want you to miss out on something that could be good for you. He doesn't want you to suffer from self-sabotage the way he does."

"Did he tell you that?"

I shook my head. "He doesn't have to. I know how he works. I've seen it before."

She set her jaw defiantly. "Well, maybe I don't need him trying to protect me from myself, or whatever the fuck he thinks he's doing."

"He's trying to love you, B'Elanna," I blurted without thinking. Instantly, I regretted revealing something that would undoubtedly make him upset.

Her eyes widened. " _What did you say?"_

"Well, it's just a guess. I mean, he hasn't told me anything. But, I haven't seen him wound up like this since he fell for my friend, Susie, the summer before we all started at the Academy. She broke his heart, and after that I think he decided it wasn't worth the risk to fall in love." I smiled. "Until now."

"He _loves_ me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrugged. "He's never been good at showing others how he feels about them. And, as I said, it's just a guess. But, I'd like to think that I know him well enough to tell." As I watched B'Elanna process my revelation, the look on her face revealed her own feelings to me. "You love him, too, don't you?"

When her terrified eyes met mine, they were all the confirmation I needed.

* * *

 _Counselor's Log: Supplemental_

 _Unable to find any other explanation for my severe dopamine deficiency, Dr. Schmullis was forced to concede that it was likely the result of the Prophet's departure from my brain, just as I suspected. Thankfully, he doesn't believe I'll need surgery. I've been placed on a stimulant and approved to return to duty, though my symptoms—particularly my difficulties with attentiveness, mood, and decision-making—may persist for a while longer._

 _I've had to push back several patients on my schedule so that I have time to do research on Seven of Nine. I'll need most of the day to get my work done, and I've already lost half the morning in Sickbay. Thankfully, Chakotay convinced Captain Janeway to push the time of our meeting back until later this afternoon; by then, hopefully, I'll find some answers for her about our newest crewman._

* * *

"Her name is Annika Hansen," I informed the group as I called up the holoimage of a blonde-haired Terran girl on the briefing room console. Janeway, Chakotay, Tuvok, and Schmullis all sat around the table, listening. "She was born at the Tendara colony on stardate 25479. Her parents, Erin and Magnus Hansen, were civilian exobiologists who studied cybernetically-augmented species. In 2353, they received Federation approval to study the Borg based on information from the El-Aurian reports. Their last recorded whereabouts were at a remote outpost in the Omega Sector, where they refused to file a flight plan for their vessel, the USS Raven. Annika was four years old. Accounting for her claim that she has spent eighteen years with the Collective, she was likely assimilated around age seven."

"So she was raised by the Borg," Chakotay concluded.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Although, to 'raise' a child generally implies a hands-on process, whereas the Borg leave their young inside maturation chambers to develop. It's not as if she had any kind of a childhood with the Collective."

"Do you believe it is possible to integrate her into the crew?" Tuvok asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "All of the former drones Chakotay and I met in the Nekrit Expanse had been assimilated as adults. I've never heard of assimilated children being liberated, but I can't imagine it's easy. I mean," I gestured to Janeway and Chakotay, "how much do either of you remember about being seven years old?"

Chakotay stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Honestly, not much."

"There must be something we can do to help her reclaim her individuality," Janeway insisted.

"It's hard to know exactly what she needs while she's still under sedation in Sickbay," I pointed out. "Drones function as they do due to the massive neuroelectric field generated by each cube, which circulates a constant stream of thought and regenerative energy between them all. Once that residual energy fades entirely from her brain, she will become whatever is left behind. She could wake up acting like a scared seven-year-old Terran girl. Or, given nearly two decades of memories carried over from the Collective, she could come out fully committed to Borg ideals on her own."

"Are there any clear answers you can give us, Commander?" Tuvok asked.

"Well, the good news for us is that drones are not prone to resistance. They depend upon the Collective will, not their own. As long as she can't assimilate us or contact the Borg, I think it's likely that she'll simply adapt to our lifestyle. But, regardless of who she is when she wakes up, I don't doubt that the first human memories to resurface will be deeply traumatic ones from her assimilation. Fear-based memories tend to be the strongest, and she will likely suffer psychologically from this. The crew will need to follow some guidelines for interacting with her."

Janeway leaned forward. "Such as?"

"Don't bring up her past. Don't hold the actions of the Collective against her. Don't make assumptions about her unconscious motives. Don't expect her to think or act like us. Also, if any of the crew experience upsetting emotions in regards to her presence, then they should speak with me about it rather than confronting her."

Janeway nodded slowly. Next to her, Chakotay cleared his throat. "Thank you, Talia."

I deactivated the screen and took my seat.

With that discussion over, Janeway turned her attention to Schmullis. "Doctor, what updates can you give us on her medical condition?"

"At the moment, she's stable," he reported, "but her body is entirely dependent on implants to function, and those implants need energy. Without a regeneration unit to replenish that energy, she will die. What's more, even if we were to build a unit for her, those implants also rely on the Borg neuroelectric field to maintain them. Without the energy from the hive mind, many of the implants will break down over time, and some of them will put her life in danger."

"How long?" Janeway asked.

"Weeks for some, months or years for most."

"What are you saying, Doctor?"

"I'm facing a bit of an ethical dilemma. Obviously, in order to ensure the safety of the crew, certain of her systems will have to be deactivated and the implants removed before I bring her out of sedation—personal shields, assimilation tubules, those sorts of things. But, if she stays with us, I'll eventually have to remove other implants, as well."

"Which is something she may not want," Janeway finished.

Schmullis nodded, hesitating for a beat before offering the alternative option. "Conversely, we could build her a regeneration unit, give her a subspace transmitter, and leave her on a planet for the Borg to retrieve. She'd remain a Borg, but she'd be alive, and for all we know, that's the life she'll want. But, one way or another, we must make a decision on the matter soon; I can't keep her sedated indefinitely."

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sighed heavily. "How soon do you need the regeneration unit, Doctor?"

"Her systems will begin to shut down in approximately three days without energy."

She dropped her hand and turned to her first officer. "Chakotay, have B'Elanna work with Dr. Schmullis to build something suitable for our guest to use."

He nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"Doctor," she continued, "I want you to proceed with the surgery. She needs to be informed of what's happened, and we can't risk her trying to take the ship again. Besides, she may have been raised by Borg, but underneath all of that technology, she is a human being. She deserves, for once, to be treated like one."

"Aye, Captain," the doctor replied.

"If there's nothing else, you're all dismissed." With that, Tuvok and Chakotay stood to leave, and Schmullis transferred his program back to Sickbay. I, however, stayed put. Janeway glanced at me. "Something else you want to discuss, Commander?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you about Crewman Ghemor. I was wondering if you might consider giving her some kind of positive, tangible reward for her actions on the bridge yesterday." I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap. "I have to confess, Captain, that it surprised me at first, what she did. She risked her life for us, without a second thought. I keep going over it in my head, and I'm starting to wonder if it's my own prejudice that keeps me from bringing this up, rather than her character."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked, her voice soft with compassion.

Clearing my throat, I met her eyes once more. "I wonder if it's time to loosen the leash. I'm not saying she should get free run of the place, but I do think she's earned some degree of trust and respect. And, given her unique knowledge and skill sets, I've been wondering if it might be in our interests to have her on the bridge. The problem is—"

"Chakotay."

I nodded. "I can talk with him, if you'd like—"

She held up a hand to silence my offer. "Thank you, Talia, but no. I think it should come from me."

* * *

Within three days, Seven of Nine's surgeries were complete, her regeneration unit built, and her energy replenished; she was ready to be revived. Captain Janeway, Tuvok, and I all stood just outside of the force field enclosing the surgical bay. Dr. Schmullis stood next to the drone's biobed, setting the dose on the hypospray, while Dr. Kes stood behind us to monitor the console. Janeway nodded to Schmullis, and he pressed the hypo against his patient's neck.

Slowly, the drone opened her eye and looked around the bay before coming to a sitting position on the biobed. Her gaze fixed on Janeway, turning into an icy glare. "Captain Janeway."

"Hello, Seven of Nine," Janeway greeted calmly. "As I'm sure you are aware, your link to the Collective has been severed. You will also find that your personal forcefield, assimilation tubules, proximity transceiver, and plasma beam have been removed for security purposes. Now, it's time we update you on our current situation."

The drone slid down to her feet and stepped towards the forcefield until she stood directly in front of the Captain. "You will return this drone to the Borg."

"It's not that simple," Janeway explained. "After the non-corporeal creature severed you from the hive mind, she opened a wormhole and brought us ten thousand light years closer to the Alpha Quadrant. There are no Borg within sensor range."

"State our location," Seven of Nine demanded.

Janeway had anticipated this question; she nodded at Tuvok, who released the forcefield separating her from the drone. Offering a PADD to Seven of Nine, she asked, "Are you familiar with this region?"

The drone glanced over the PADD, then returned her gaze to Janeway. "We are about to enter spacial grid 005, the Krenim Imperium."

A quiet collective gasp sounded in the room, and all eyes went to Kes. I, however, kept my gaze fixed on Seven of Nine. As I watched, I noticed a subtle, but still distinguishable, change in her countenance. "You look… disappointed," I observed.

Her eyes slid over to me. "It appears that your crew is already aware of the species that claims this space."

My lips quirked upward. "It's a long story," I said carefully. "Why is our arrival in Krenim space so disturbing to you?"

Her chin lifted. "It is a long story."

Janeway stepped closer to the drone. "It wouldn't happen to have something to do with their temporal weapons technology, would it?"

"Your vessel is not capable of withstanding the kind of technology they possess," Seven of Nine said. "You will fail."

Janeway crossed her arms. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that. We can be quite innovative when we need to be. Although, if there is information you can share with us about the Krenim that might help us, it will increase our chances of survival."

Suddenly, Seven of Nine turned on her heel and retreated back into the surgical bay, pacing to release her rapidly increasing anxiety. "My help is irrelevant. You will fail. The Krenim possess a vessel unlike any other in the galaxy; it houses a powerful weapon that can create temporal incursions which remove its target entirely from the spacetime continuum, creating a new timeline. The Borg have lost many vessels to this technology, and have deemed it too great a risk."

Tuvok's brow furrowed. "How is it that the Borg have retained this knowledge if the vessels that attacked the Krenim were removed from the spacetime continuum?"

"The Borg have assimilated species who possess the ability to detect entropic shifts in spacetime," she replied, returning to stand in front of us. "They have informed the Collective's decision not to enter this region of space." She paused in her pacing, and the faltering tone with which she spoke her next words made my _pagh_ ache for scared little girl inside of her. "The Borg will not come for us here. We are alone."

"You're not alone," Janeway insisted, her voice suddenly full of compassion. "You're part of a human collective now, made up of individuals who live and work together."

Seven of Nine narrowed her eyes at the Captain. "You wish to assimilate me into your collective."

"Not exactly. We wish to help you. We can't give you the unity you had in the Collective, but we can offer you freedom and community here on Voyager, if you're willing to help us. And, we'll do everything we can to make the transition easier for you."

The drone paused for a moment, almost as if she was waiting for the Collective's voice to tell her how to proceed. When no such order arrived, she looked deeply unsettled.

Just then, I heard Kes speak gently from behind me. "You have nothing to fear from these people," she reassured the drone. "They won't harm you."

When Seven of Nine's eyes met Kes', her mounting anxiety seemed to dissipate. For almost a minute, their gazes remained fixed on each other until, with a deep breath, the drone shifted her gaze back to Captain Janeway. "If we are assimilated into your collective, we will be an individual? Autonomous? Independent?"

Janeway smiled hopefully. "Yes."

"If, at that time, we choose to return to the Borg Collective, will you permit it?"

A muscle in Janeway's jaw flinched as her smile shifted to a frown, and I could tell that she was thinking up a tactful way of refusing Seven of Nine's request. Gently, I touched her on the arm to draw her attention to me, giving her a slight nod when she turned. She glanced from me to Tuvok, who did the same.

Then, Janeway returned her gaze to Seven of Nine. "If that is truly what you want. But, freedom of choice isn't all there is to being an individual. Because we don't share thoughts collectively, we rely on trust to function as a crew. If we cannot trust you to keep your word, your freedom will be restricted, just like any other crewman. Do you understand?"

Seven of Nine gave a single nod. "We— _I—_ understand. It is no longer my intention to betray you." She then turned to face Schmullis. "You may proceed."

His expression became confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"You will assimilate me into your collective," she elaborated.

I smiled and stepped forward. "We don't force people to become like us. Part of being an individual is learning to value our differences, using them to collaborate together and make things better for all of us. There will be times when our doctors may have to remove implants that are malfunctioning, but the rest is up to you. You don't have to lose who you are to join us."

Her brow furrowed. "I do not understand. Your crew will fear me as a Borg. They will not trustme. I should become Terran."

"They'll adapt," Janeway asserted. "The question is, do _you_ want to become Terran?"

Seven of Nine thought about the Captain's question for several seconds before she made up her mind. "You may remove my exoplating and ocular implant, and make cosmetic alterations that will aid my assimilation into your crew. I would prefer to retain the remaining implants, if that is acceptable."

"Certainly," Schmullis said. "Are there any particular cosmetic changes that you would like to have?"

The drone looked again at Kes, considering the question for several beats before answering softly, "Hair. I would like... hair."

Captain Janeway smiled, watching the drone's interaction with Kes and filling once again with hope that perhaps she could be reached. "While you're here," she said, calling the drone's attention back to her, "would you like us to continue calling you Seven of Nine? Or would you rather pick a different name?"

Her brow furrowed, unsure. "I have been Seven of Nine for a significant length of time. However, the designation no longer applies." She considered her decision briefly before responding, "My Terran name was Annika Hansen. You may refer to me as Annika."


	2. Honor

**Honor**

* * *

With the _Balth Jaj_ only two days away, and B'Elanna's holoprogram complete, she had finally agreed to use my sparring program to practice her _bat'leth_ skills. When Tom and Harry overheard us planning our first workout, they decided to tag along. For the first time, I would see how well my friends here could handle themselves with the large, curved Klingon blade in their hands.

Upon entering the holodeck, B'Elanna glanced around at the simulated gym with a confused look. "Is this one of the Academy's gyms?"

"It is," I confirmed. "I doubt it looks like this anymore, but I always liked Coach Dax's arrangement."

Harry's head snapped towards me, his eyes wide with surprise. " _Dax_? As in, _the_ Curzon Dax?"

Tom strode over to the rack of _bat'leths_ hanging on the wall. "Yep, the one and only. After retiring from active duty, he split his time between Starfleet Academy and some post-graduate program on Trill. Must've been one hell of a commute."

I smiled. "He was the one who created the _bat'leth_ course at the Academy. When he left, they had to stop offering it."

B'Elanna stood back several paces, as if afraid that the practice blades might be poisonous. "Were you in his class, too, Tom?"

Tom sighed mournfully. "Unfortunately, no. My dad insisted I stick with parrises squares. It's just as well, though. I might have been too much of a distraction for Tal's geeky girlfriend." He winked at me teasingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Jadzia wouldn't have given you a second glance. Alright, people, let's get to work."

B'Elanna was a fair fighter with the _bat'leth_ , though she much preferred sparring hand-to-hand over fighting with blades. What made it especially difficult for her was personal history; when it came to doing anything Klingon, she couldn't help but tense up under the weight of a past trauma that she still refused to speak out loud. After losing two matches in a row, I sent her to the nearby punching bag so she could loosen up some before trying again.

Tom jumped at the opportunity, taking one of the largest blades from the rack and stepping onto the mat with me. I raised my eyebrows at him. "You sure you can handle one that big, flyboy?"

Grasping the handles and bending his knees, he began to stalk me around the mat. His demeanor was cool and confident as he flashed me a challenging grin. "Are you?"

" _Peta'Q_ , please," I spat as I mirrored his steps. "I've been doing this since I was a child. Defend yourself!" With a beastial roar, I lunged at him, and our _bat'leths_ crashed together in the middle. Tom was a very athletic man, the type who could pick up nearly any sport and be proficient within a day. Even so, he'd only sparred once or twice with B'Elanna, so I knew that I would have the advantage. Within a few moves, I had him disarmed and on his back.

"You Terran jocks are all the same," I teased as I helped him to his feet. "You let your cock do all the thinking, and it makes you overly confident."

B'Elanna cackled from the next mat over, then cursed at herself. "Shit! I lost count."

"Twenty-two," Harry reminded her, steadying the punching bag for her.

Tom's brow furrowed. "Isn't that kind of the point of Klingon sparring?"

I shook my head. "Klingons fight with their hearts; the body is merely a tool, and the _bat'leth_ an extension of the body. You know that you are taller and stronger than I am, so you come at me with a hard offensive, thinking your strength will bring you a quick victory. But, you forget that being small has its own advantages. Be patient, Tom. You can't out-maneuver me, but you _can_ out-think me. Try again." I flipped the _bat'leth_ into position in my hands.

"Alright," he said, picking up his weapon. For several minutes, he maintained a defensive posture and only made smaller attacks to test my reactions. Mostly, he watched me, trying to get a sense of my style and mannerisms. The longer he toyed with me, the better he got. Soon, he was confident that he had me figured out.

When he finally made his move, however, I was ready, rolling with his attempt to twist the weapon from my hands and coming to my feet again at the edge of his periphery. I swiped quickly at his knees, landing him once again on his back, and brought the blade down to hover just above his throat. I smiled at him approvingly. "Now _that_ was a fight." After helping him to his feet, I turned to B'Elanna. "I've got your opponent all warmed up for you. You ready?"

She looked Tom up and down nervously, then nodded.

* * *

The next morning, Harry and I sat at our usual table in the Mess Hall. When Neelix stopped by to check on our meal, he frowned at the two empty seats beside us. "No Tom or B'Elanna this morning?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess not."

Just then, both officers walked into the room together, looking suspiciously flushed. Nudging Harry's foot under the table, I crooked at finger in their direction as he looked up at me. "Speak of the devil," I quipped. Neelix hurried over to serve them, while Harry and I chuckled between ourselves. "Took them long enough to address that situation, don't you think?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes it did."

We were still grinning when Tom and B'Elanna sat down next to us with their food. "So," I teased, leaning over the table, "what did you two do after we left last night?"

"None of your goddamn business," B'Elanna grumbled, her head bent over her plate in a vain attempt to cover the color rising in her cheeks and the smile that refused to leave her lips.

"Tom?"

"Nope," Tom deflected cheerily, spearing his food with the prongs of his fork. "I'm just here to eat my breakfast."

I gave Tom a friendly pat on the back, and a genuinely pleased smile. Then, I changed the subject.

* * *

Annika Hansen's first meeting with me after she had recovered from her surgeries was not exactly a session, but rather an orientation. I told her to meet me at my quarters instead of my office, as she had just been assigned her own living space and was unsure how to use it. Captain Janeway had wanted to oversee the transition, and Tuvok had nearly forced his hand to be our security escort; but, I had stood my ground, insisting that it was better not to overwhelm Annika and that I was perfectly capable of handling her on my own.

She arrived promptly, dressed in plain black slacks and a solid red shirt. Her skin was more pink-toned than it had been, and her long, blonde hair was braided back in a way that reflected Kes' feminine touch. The ocular implant built into her left eye socket had been replaced by a cybernetically-enhanced glass eye that precisely matched her human eye, though the dark, metal base of the implant still protruded through the skin around her brow. Most of the implants on her head and face had been removed or covered, leaving her looking quite Terran in full-length pants and long sleeves. Underneath her clothes and skin, however, about two-thirds of her Borg implants had been left alone.

As I walked her slowly through my living space, I demonstrated the functions of the various appliances and furnishings that came standard in Voyager's crew quarters, and suggested a few changes she could make to optimize and personalize her own space. The dining furniture, for example, was unnecessary as she did not eat; she could exchange it for a large desk instead and create a workspace for herself.

"Speaking of work," I segued, pausing in front of the table to look her in the face, "have you given anymore thought to what you'd like to do on Voyager? Because, I was thinking that we could visit a few of the workstations after we're done here, and you could talk with some of the department heads about what they do. What do you think about that?"

Annika gave a slight nod. "It is acceptable. Captain Janeway wishes for me to enhance Voyager's warp core for transwarp flight, but I was not an engineering drone and am unfamiliar with how the technology works."

"I'll talk with the Captain," I assured her. "What _was_ your job in the Collective?"

"Prior to our meeting, I was charged with tactical analysis and task oversight."

"Command," I concluded, surprised. "I didn't realize the Borg had a hierarchy."

"They do not," she corrected. "I merely brought order to chaos."

"Well, if you'd like, we can meet with Lieutenant Commander Tuvok to discuss what you could do in tactical operations."

"If you believe that would be the most efficient placement for me, then I will comply."

I smiled. "Annika, for us, job placement isn't just about efficiency or skill. It's also about desire, pleasure, and satisfaction. For example, I discovered at a young age that I am proficient at languages and codes. One of my advisors at Starfleet Academy wanted me to go into intelligence instead of counseling, but I ultimately decided against it. I _wanted_ to be a counselor, and I've never regretted my choice. It brings me deep personal satisfaction and fulfillment. Do you understand?"

Her eyebrow lifted. "Yes."

"So, what do you _want_ to do?"

She thought about it for several beats before giving her answer. "As an analytical drone, I was privy to the Collective's knowledge of astrometric and cartographic data. I could assist with updating Voyager's sensor array, inputting spacial grid data, and plotting a more efficient course through this region of space."

My smile broadened. "Stellar Cartography. Good choice. The techs in that lab have been campaigning for an upgrade almost since we got here—as has my husband's department, since ops utilizes the lab's sensors. Plus," I added with a wink, "you'll have an excellent supervisor."

Her brow furrowed with genuine confusion. "It was my understanding that Stellar Cartography was under your supervision as Voyager's Chief Science Officer. Is that not correct?"

Internally, I kicked myself. Humor would take time for her to learn, and this was not the time. I changed my tone. "Yes, you are correct. I oversee all of our science labs, including cartography. You would be answering to me."

"Then you rate yourself as 'excellent'?"

I gave a confidant nod. "Yes, I suppose so. Although, admittedly, I was given the position due to the death of Captain Janeway's original CSO, not because I actually earned it. Who knows? Maybe, in a few years, if you choose to undergo officer training, you could earn higher qualifications than I have."

As I showed her around the rest of my quarters, her eyes fell on the altar in the corner of the living room. "What is the function of this piece of furniture?"

"This is not something that will be in your room; I added it myself. It's called an altar, and it's used for various religious practices. The relics set on top of it are tools for those practices, to help me remain focused."

She reached out and picked up my rosary, gingerly feeling it in her hands. The exoskeletal implants on her hands made a soft _tink_ _tink tink_ against the metal crucifix that hung from the center. "This item is familiar to me," she said quietly.

 _A memory from her childhood, perhaps?_ "It's called a rosary. It comes from a Terran religion, Roman Catholicism. You hold it and recite a certain incantation—a prayer—as you move your fingers from one bead to the next."

She stared at it for a long while, looking as though she was remembering something from another lifetime. I watched her carefully as the memory turned sour; she set down the rosary and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to disconnect from it. It wasn't yet time to face such things. Then, she opened her eyes and looked at me, emotionless once more. "What is the purpose of religion?"

"It varies from person to person, but usually it's supposed to help an individual feel more connected to something greater than themselves. Many religions follow teachings about one or more metaphysical entities of some kind—gods, prophets, spirits. Others simply pursue philosophical ideals such as personal enlightenment or collective unity. Usually, a religion is based on a systematic set of principles and actions passed down from a particularly revered individual or community, which guides people as they form their own morals and ethics."

"Are many of the crew religious?"

"Most Terrans aren't strongly religious anymore; Commander Chakotay, myself, and a few others are the rare exceptions to that rule. But, many of the crew from other worlds are. Bajorans and Vulcans, for example, tend to be quite religious."

"You do not consider yourself to be Bajoran?"

I laughed lightly at myself. What a strange anomaly of a person I was. "Yes and no. My mother fled Bajor as a young adult. She relocated to Earth and joined Starfleet, where she met my Terran father. I spent most of my childhood on a Federation starship, and the rest of it on Earth. My mother taught me the Bajoran language and customs, but I didn't visit Bajor itself until I was well into my twenties. I suppose I've always thought of myself as a little of both."

Annika contemplated my words. "That is the case for me, as well. I am Borg, yet I am also Terran. Paradoxically, I am unsure that I truly belong to either species."

I smiled kindly at her. "That's the strangest quality of being a mixed-species individual; you tend to feel out-of-place everywhere, even within your own native cultures. It's a feeling that never completely goes away, so I find that it's better to just accept it and appreciate the uniqueness it gives me as an individual."

She nodded. "I understand."

* * *

In a happy surprise, Annika hit it off with Megan and Jenny Delaney in Stellar Cartography when she began making suggestions for how we could improve our database and technology. By the end of the day, Harry had joined us, and we hammered out a joint science-ops report to bring up in the next morning's staff meeting.

"Evidently," I told my fellow senior officers as we sat in the briefing room, "Unimatrix 01 is the Queen's location, and Seven of Nine was one of her main analysts. Before she was assigned to that job, however, she was stationed at a unimatrix in the Beta quadrant, and has retained a good understanding of how Federation technology works—particularly sensors, weapons, and defensive systems. She can't give us transwarp, but she can help us improve Voyager's operations, and give us astrometric data about what's ahead."

Chakotay raised his eyebrows, thoroughly impressed with this development. "Do you have a plan for how you want to begin working on this new Astrometrics Lab?"

Harry grinned. "We have more than just a plan, sir." With that, he stood, stepped up to the console, and displayed the blueprint he had designed for the project. He explained in dizzying detail the technical specs of the new lab, and I could swear I saw Tom nearly begin salivating at the improvements it would provide for the ship's navigational systems.

"How long would this project take?" Chakotay asked.

"Three to four weeks," Harry estimated, "depending on what kind of materials we can get our hands on."

"Annika has provided us with information on three species native to the region just outside of Krenim space," I informed the group. "It'll take us several light-years off-course, but we think it's more than worth it. Not only can we trade for materials to upgrade the lab, but we can also get information about the Krenim. Once we complete these upgrades, we should be able to make up for lost time simply by virtue of having better sensor and mapping technology."

Janeway's mouth curved up into an approving smile. "Alright, Ms. Eelo, Mr. Kim. I suppose there is no longer any reason to delay your requests. You may begin working with Crewman Hansen right away on these upgrades."

Harry was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he returned to his seat. "Thank you, Captain."

"Now," she continued, looking again at me, "Commander, what can you tell me about these local species we're going to be changing course to visit?"

"Well, Captain," I began, folding my hands on the table in front of me, "Annika recommended that we contact a species known as the Zahl."

* * *

That evening, Harry, Tom and I sat in the Mess Hall, waiting for B'Elanna to show up for dinner so we could hear about her holiday. When she arrived, after having stopped by her quarters to shower and change, she looked exhausted but satisfied. "How was the program?" Tom asked when she sat down beside him with her food.

"It was… _interesting_ ," she assessed with a nod. "I'll be honest, I didn't actually spend much time on Gorath, but I did everything else."

"Are you glad you did it?" I asked.

"I am, actually. But, I'm also glad it's over. Not sure it's one I want to add to my calendar every year, you know?"

Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his chest, and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "I'm so proud of you, B'Elanna."

When she smiled back at him, it seemed that, at least for the moment, everything around us was going right.


	3. Tapestry

**Tapestry**

 _Source Episodes: VOY 4x08 Year of Hell, 4x14 Message in a Bottle, 6x07 Dragon's Teeth_

* * *

Within a week's time, we reached one of the outlying Zahl refugee colonies. They welcomed us with open arms, immediately agreeing to meet with us and open trade discussions. Once Tom had set _Voyager's_ orbit over their small, M-Class planet, Captain Janeway, Tuvok, Neelix, and I transported to the surface to meet the colony leaders.

"Welcome to Tenah Sa, Captain Janeway," greeted the exceedingly friendly man who met us outside of their city square, bowing low before us. "We are deeply pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Jenith, First Minister of the Tenah Sa Colony of the Free Zahl Nations."

A humanoid species, the Zahl were distinguished by a large crested facial ridge that ran from hairline to nosetip, along with meandering patterns of ridges along both sides of their faces. Jenith had umber-brown skin with deep brown hair and eyes, while the two ministers flanking him both had lighter complexions. The woman to his right, whom he introduced as Second Minister Elentia, had tawny-beige skin with long, ink black hair and sparkling amber eyes. To his left was his Minister of Science Topal, who had pale taupe skin with dark blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

Janeway smiled warmly at the officials, returning Jenith's bow. "The pleasure is ours, Minister. Thank you for your gracious welcome. Allow me to introduce my Chief of Security, Lt. Commander Tuvok; my Chief of Science and _Voyager's_ counselor, Lt. Commander Eelo Talia; and, Ambassador Neelix."

"Welcome to you all," Jenith said, inclining his head. "I know we do not look like much here, but whatever we do not have in our possession, I am sure we can get for you from our larger colonies, or from one of our allies. Now, come; let us not delay the welcome feast."

* * *

The dinner that the Zahl had prepared for us was incredible. It was clear that they had pulled out all the stops for us, even though Captain Janeway had only spoken with Minister Jenith once prior to our arrival. Jenith had brought his family to meet us, as had all of his leaders and advisors. They were enthralled with the story of how we ended up so far from home, and with the encounters we'd had thus far as we made our way back.

We were even surprised to hear that Jenith had heard of Talax— and of the Haakonian Order that had brutally conquered Neelix's homeworld less than a generation before— though he admittedly knew little more than that.

"This quadrant has been home to many advanced species," Jenith explained, "most of whom have been exploring and conquering systems from one end to another for a thousand years or more. Between the conflicts that have developed out of that, and the rapid expansion of the Borg Collective, I am afraid it has become a rather unfriendly place. It is a testament to your strength and determination that such a young race has endured as you have. You find yourselves among friends here, Federation Starfleet. Still, I feel compelled to warn you that just beyond our borders is a war zone unlike anything you have yet encountered."

"We would be most grateful for any information you could give us about this region, Minister," Tuvok said.

Jenith smiled. "Of course, Lt. Commander Tuvok. We will share all that we can."

"I think we'd also enjoy hearing about your own history, if you'd be willing to tell us," I added.

"We would be glad to, Lt. Commander Eelo. But first, I think it is time to retire from the table before our children fall asleep," he declared, gesturing to his own young son, who had curled up on his wife's lap next to him.

Many of the other young children had done the same, while the older children had run outside to play. The adults began standing to go home for the night, bowing to us deeply before they left. By the time the table was cleared, only Jenith, Elentia, and Topal remained.

Once we had been seated in the meeting room— which was rather like a lounge, filled with soft couches and chairs that were flanked by small accent tables— we were served the traditional after-dinner tea.

"Our history, like yours, is a tale of hardship," Jenith began. "The Zahl have been subjugated by many stronger species who wished to take advantage of our peaceful nature so they could exploit the rich resources of our homeworld, Azahla, and the talents of our people in science and technology. A thousand years ago, it was the Vaadwaur, a vicious species who used a network of small, naturally-occurring underspace tunnels to plunder worlds from Talax all the way to the edges of what you call the Beta Quadrant. We resisted, allying ourselves with many species in the region— the B'omar, the Srivani, the Krenim— but it wasn't enough.

"Our salvation came from a wealthy and powerful species whose homeworld is far from here, called the Turei. When the Vaadwaur were vanquished, the Turei Monarchy claimed the Underspace for themselves, and helped all of the species that had been conquered by Vaadwaur set up new, independent governments. At least, it seemed they were helping us; the reality was that they were trapping us in endless amounts of debt to their government, and installing leaders on our worlds who were loyal to them.

"The Zahl have always found our greatest strength in fostering relationships with others. We negotiated an alliance with our most powerful neighbors, the Krenim, and rebelled against the Monarchy to win our independence. The Krenim then fortified and closed off their borders, isolating themselves from all other species for fear of further oppression. We knew nothing of their culture or technology for centuries. I believe you know what come from their isolationism."

"Chroniton weapons technology," Janeway said.

Jenith bowed. "About two hundred years ago, a new monarch took her place at the head of the Krenim Imperium, Queen Nilat Kyana. She married the Imperium's top temporal scientist, General Kurtos Annorax, and together they built a most fearsome weapon. You see, the Krenim have long excelled at mathematics, science, and technology, as we have; however, where we are diplomats, they are military tacticians.

"The weapon that the Queen and her husband built is known as the Imperial Timeship _Solassat_. It hides just outside of the fabric of spacetime; we cannot trace it, though it does seem to exist in temporal sync with whichever timeline happens to be dominant. We know very little about this weapon, but it is said to be able to erase entire worlds from spacetime. Of course, no one can confirm whether this is true or not, as it has yet to be used in this timeline, but there is evidence in favor of its validity. They have used this weapon to threaten and conquer many worlds, including Azahla."

"Is that what led you to move off-world?" Neelix asked.

Again, Jenith bowed. "Time has made the Turei less authoritarian; they no longer force their will over subjected worlds, and have given most of them true independence. Many of these worlds have voluntarily allied with the Turei, creating what is known as the United Underspace Coalition. The majority of the member planets do little more than trade with one another, but having the coalition behind them does bring some degree of security and stability.

"When Azahla was taken, many of our people fled to seek asylum from the Turei, promising their skills and loyalty to the monarchy in return for protection from the Imperium. The Turei agreed to protect us, and they resettled us wherever they could. There are a handful of sizable Zahl colonies in this region, near the borders of the Underspace, as well as hundreds of small colonies throughout the quadrant that help to maintain the Underspace corridors and communication network. Together, these colonies make up the Free Zahl Nations."

Janeway's eyes were wide. I knew what she was thinking; if we could negotiate for use of those subspace corridors, they would take us through half of our trip home.

Seeing our expressions, Jenith held up a cautioning hand. "Before you ask, I can already tell you that your vessel is too large to traverse the Underspace, and that— even as benevolent as the monarchy has become towards known species— the Turei are still quite mistrustful of outsiders. The corridors have been stable for thousands of years, but they are fragile and weaken with use. The Turei guard them fiercely; they would never be persuaded to allow you passage, even if you abandoned _Voyager_ and went on smaller ships. I am deeply sorry to wound your hopes."

Janeway's hope faltered, but she recovered skillfully. "It's not the first time we've faced this kind of disappointment, Minister, and it won't be the last."

"While we cannot speed you on your way home, there may be something else we can do. I do not wish to get your hopes up falsely, so be prepared for the possibility that the Turei will reject this request."

"Of course," Janeway agreed, leaning forward expectantly. "Go on."

"In order to keep their empire together, the Vaadwaur built an extensive communications network above a large portion of the Underspace, extending even further into the Beta Quadrant than do the corridors. Of course, it now belongs to the monarchy, but the Zahl help them maintain it. It won't put you in direct contact with your people, but if the Turei allow it, you could at least send a subspace message to let them know you're alive."

"Minister, you can't imagine what that would mean to us," Janeway told him, her voice trembling slightly. "If there is anything in particular that we could do to sway the Turei's decision in our favor, we will certainly take it into consideration."

"Actually, Captain, I believe we can help each other out here. You see, our primary transport vessel is undergoing extensive repairs that have required more time than we anticipated, and our secondary vessel isn't due back for another week. Ministers Elentia and Topal are scheduled to be on a planet called Nikatos in three days. If you would be willing to transport them for us, Elentia will put you in contact with the Turei and aid you in negotiating with them. Along the way, it would be Topal's pleasure to offer his expertise in the development of this astrometric laboratory you told us about."

Janeway practically glowed. "We would be glad to help. However, I feel obligated to inform you beforehand, Minister Topal, that one of our crew assigned to work on the upgrades was recently a Borg drone who has been liberated from the collective. I can assure you that she poses no danger to you, but I wouldn't want you to be upset when you meet her."

Minister Topal smiled warmly. "I appreciate your concern, Captain Janeway, but you need not worry. We welcome all kinds. I am sure she will be a most interesting acquaintance to make."

"Very well, then," Janeway said with a satisfied nod, "let's talk trade, then, shall we?"

* * *

By the time we arrived at Nikatos a little over two days later, we had already begun construction on the stellar cartography lab, which would be renamed Astrometrics. Minister Topal had been quite helpful in his suggestions for improving our designs and providing information to add to our database.

In the meantime, cartographic controls had been rerouted to the science console on the bridge, which meant that my staff was stationed there more often than I was. Of course, between overseeing the lab renovations, researching Zahl language and culture with Neelix, and my continued therapy with Annika, I really didn't miss having so many bridge shifts to juggle.

After her meetings planetside were finished, Second Minister Elentia returned to _Voyager_ with a response from the Turei; they had agreed to meet with us, and directed us to remain at Nikatos to wait for their arrival.

* * *

Early the next morning, Dr. Schmullis called me into sickbay. When I arrived, Annika was standing awkwardly beside a biobed as Schmullis scanned her with a medical tricorder. "Ah, Commander, thank you for coming so quickly."

"Report," I clipped.

Schmullis raised an eyebrow but didn't look up from his work. "Our newest recruit here has had her very first dream," he answered. "The problem is, Borg are not supposed to enter REM sleep while they regenerate."

I stifled a yawn. "Borg are also not supposed to be severed from the hive mind, or take on human identities. Could just be a side effect of these changes."

"That was my first thought," he said, "but Ms. Hansen insisted that was not a sufficient explanation, and, at the moment, I'm inclined to agree. I'm not detecting the kinds of changes in her limbic system that I would expect to see if she had genuinely begun to experience REM sleep during her regeneration cycles. I have yet to discover a medical cause for these symptoms, but I still have a few tests to run."

I waited for several beats for him to say more, but he simply finished taking his readings, put away his tricorder, and proceeded to slip past me towards his office. I snagged his elbow. "Doctor, is there a reason why you called me here? This doesn't sound like a psychological issue."

"Well, I didn't call you here for a medical condition, Commander. It's the content of the dream you'll be concerned with."

I glared at him. "You woke me up at 0500 for a dream-reading? Damnit, Schmullis, I'm a _counselor_ , not a _clairvoyant_!"

He pursed his lips. "Well, aren't we cranky in the morning? I'm not asking you to interpret a dream, because I don't believe she has experienced one." After casting a quick glance past my shoulder, he leaned into me and lowered his voice. "I believe it may be a repressed memory."

I sighed, exasperated. "Have you been reading Freud, Doctor? That's not how memory works."

"Just talk to her, hmm?" he grumbled, pulling his elbow free of my grasp and turning back towards his office.

Biting back a string of profanities, squaring my shoulders, and taking a deep breath, I pivoted towards Annika and took on the most compassionate tone I could muster at such an hour. "Tell me about what happened during your regeneration cycle."

With a stiff nod, she began recalling the incident. "I was on an M-Class planet. It was… familiar… but I am unsure of its designation or location. It was undeveloped. I did not see many structures, and the structures I did encounter were rudimentary— little more than a roof supported by beams and left open to the environment. The landscape featured a great deal of vegetation, mostly trees, but there were walkways cleared throughout the area. There were several individuals of various species present— including some that the Federation is familiar with, such as Romulan, Klingon, Bajoran, and Jem'Hadar."

I frowned. _Jem'Hadar_?

Annika was oblivious to my confusion. "There was one other, prior to the cessation of my regeneration cycle. Species 279, El-Aurian. While most of the individuals present seemed unaffected by my presence, she took notice of me immediately upon my entry into one of the larger structures. She referred to me by my Terran designation and spoke as if we were well acquainted."

"Who was she?" I asked.

Annika paused for a moment to think. "Her designation is… Loran."

"How do you know her?"

"I am unsure. She was distressed at my lack of knowledge pertaining to our relationship or location. She… said that she had missed me. I became anxious, and ended my regeneration cycle."

"Do you have any thoughts on this experience?"

"I do not know how to think of it," she replied uneasily.

"And there's no possibility whatsoever that it could be a dream?"

"No."

I exhaled slowly. What was I supposed to do with this? Just then, my mind supplied a possible solution. It was little more than a hunch, but worth a shot. I tapped my combadge. "Eelo to Dr. Kes."

About ten seconds later, a tired voice answered. "Go ahead, Commander."

"I'm sorry to disturb you so early, but I need you to come to sickbay as soon as you can. It's not an emergency, and I'm only guessing here, but something tells me you're the person we need."

* * *

Upon observing Kes' conversation with Annika, I made up my mind to pry for an explanation on the strange connection our most sensitive telepath seemed to have with the former drone. Once Kes was finished with Annika, I pulled the doctor into my office and asked her about it.

As soon as the question left my lips, she glanced down at her hands, gathering her thoughts before looking back up at me. "Part of it is from the Prophet. When she separated Annika from the collective, she accessed every memory Annika had left that didn't involve her being Borg. There weren't many, but I experienced a few, and I've been trying to use my abilities to help her hold onto them without re-traumatizing her.

"The other part of it is the alternate timeline I experienced when I was jumping in and out of temporal sync with the rest of the crew. I didn't say anything earlier, because I didn't want it to affect the present, but I got to know her fairly well, even just in the short periods spent in each time. I got to know the person she will become because of this crew."

I nodded. "What do you know about this experience of hers?"

"Not very much. All of our lives just sort of stopped after we encountered the Krenim. Sickbay was non-operational for months. We couldn't explore the issue; it was all we could do just to survive. Eventually, it stopped happening. What I can tell you is that it's not a dream. It's some kind of communication, and my guess is that it's being disguised somehow and sent through the Turei Communications Network. I don't know who it's from or what they want, only that—" She paused.

"Only what? Kes, what do you know?"

"That it would be wise not to try and suppress it or ignore it. I'm not sure why, but I feel very strongly that it will be important in the future."

* * *

Within two days, three Turei vessels had converged on our position. Minister Elentia escorted us to a large meeting room at the Zahl embassy on Nikatos, and paced nervously as we awaited the arrival of the Turei representatives.

' _For them to have responded this quickly_ ,' she had told us the day she returned to _Voyager_ , ' _it is either very good… or very bad_.'

We all had knots in our stomachs by the time the Turei entered. They were a reptilian-looking species, with thick, textured, silver-grey skin and no hair. Elentia bowed deeply, and we began to do the same, but the gentleman leading the delegation waved a dismissive hand in our faces. "No need for that, Federation Starfleet" he grunted as he and his men brushed past us to take their seats along the far side of the table. "Sit."

We didn't dare disobey.

"Let us get right to the point, Captain Janeway," he began after everyone had a place at the table. "The minister here tells us you claim to be the only vessel from your Federation in this part of space. I have intelligence that says otherwise. Do you wish to amend your statement before we proceed with this negotiation? Be advised: We do not respond well to deception."

Janeway frowned, but she didn't break eye contact with the man. "I assure you, we have not encountered any other Federation ships in the three years since we were brought here. The only people we have met from our own part of space have been former Borg drones who were assimilated and brought here by the collective. If there are other Federation ships in the vicinity, we know nothing about them."

"So you have never heard of the Federation Starfleet vessel _Equinox_?"

Janeway's eyebrows shot up. " _Equinox_? Yes, I've heard of it. It's a Nova Class, short range science vessel commanded by Captain Rudolph Ransom. It disappeared from a mission in the Beta Quadrant just over two weeks prior to our encounter with the entity that brought us here."

The man's eyes narrowed at her. "But you are not aware of their present location?"

"Absolutely not. We didn't even know they were out here."

"Would you be willing to help us track and expel them from our Underspace in exchange for the privilege of using our communications network to contact your people?"

"We would need more details on a few matters before we agree to anything," Janeway said sternly. "The Federation has strict guidelines in how we address our citizens' violations of another culture's laws. I'm sure you understand."

He leaned forward. "If we were to discuss these guidelines, would you consider cooperating with the monarchy to our mutual benefit?"

Janeway paused, studying the man before us. His eyes were hard to read, and his body language was impassive, but he didn't strike me as the type to mince words or weave deceptions. When Janeway's eyes met mine, silently seeking my opinion, I gave her a subtle nod. "Alright," she assented, her voice clear and even. "We're listening."


	4. Dead Air

**Dead Air**

 _CW: Death of loved ones, grief_

* * *

Chief Science Officer's Log: Stardate 51096.8

Since coming to terms with the Turei, we have begun working with Zahl scientists from Nikatos to modify a few dozen communications buoys that we can place strategically throughout specific sections of the underspace. Finding Federation technology should be enough to get the _Equinox's_ attention; if not, we'll use the buoys and the Turei comnet to triangulate their position so the Turei can flush them out.

Meanwhile, we eagerly await a reply from Starfleet. Harry calculated that our message would take about a month to reach Deep Space Five, and it's only been a week. Even so, this is the most realistic chance we've had yet to contact our families— a prospect that has lifted nearly everyone's spirits.

* * *

"Launch point, 500 meters ahead," I informed Ensign Lyndsay Ballard from the conn of the shuttlecraft _Drake_ as the current of the underspace corridor carried us swiftly along.

"Buoy ready," she responded.

"Mark." I watched the readings on my console as the marker projected away from our position and anchored itself just inside the wall of the corridor. "Approaching turn-off. Coming about." My shoulders relaxed slightly as I eased up some on the controls. "Time to next launch point is approximately five minutes."

The tension that had left me seemed to shift onto Lyndsay's shoulders instead. She glanced out the viewport at the corridor and shuddered. "It's hard to believe that we are flying directly underneath Borg space. If something happens that shifts our shield harmonics even a little bit—"

I hummed and nodded. "It's less stressful if you just don't think about it."

She huffed a laugh. "If only it were that easy." Then, she turned her gaze to me. "What's it like— being part of a hive mind?"

My mouth quirked. "It's not so bad. Amazing, actually, when you enter into it willingly. Comforting. Intimate. Easy. I can definitely understand the appeal."

"What about when you don't want it?"

I sucked in a breath. "It's like drowning." She fell silent. Had I been at liberty to look away from my controls, I was sure I'd have found her countenance full of dread. "Like I said," I continued, "it's best not to think about it. We'll be fine. Our shield modifications are stable. Their ships are too large for the underspace, and they have no interest in it anyway."

"I wonder if Crewman Hansen misses it— the hive mind. It must feel like losing her whole family, all at once."

I pursed my lips and offered no reply. Such feelings were not mine to share.

"Do you think drones can love?" she asked.

I shook my head subtly, recalling the memories I'd experienced while I was mind-linked with the Cooperative. "No, they can't. That was swept away by the current of the hive mind a very long time ago."

"But once they're disconnected, they can get it back again, right?"

"Yes, they can. Lyndsay, why the sudden interest in Hansen and the collective consciousness?"

At the edge of my periphery, I saw her shrug. "Maybe I'm interested. She pulls off that sexless vibe so well."

I snorted, but said nothing, letting the silence hang.

After a few seconds, she folded under the tension. "Actually, it's nothing to do with Crewman Hansen, or the Borg." She sighed. "You heard what happened with me and Tal, right?"

"I did."

"Well, believe it or not, there might be one thing that scares me even more than assimilation." She paused, gathering the courage to speak her mind. "I think I'm in love with her— which is crazy, because she's so… so… _argh_! You know?"

I chuckled. Indeed, Tal Celes could be quite frustrating at times. I'd never known a Bajoran woman to be so scared of her own shadow. But, in moments when she stopped obsessing over her insecurities, she could be one of the funniest and sweetest crew on _Voyager_. "For some people, that works."

"Do you think it could work for us?"

"I do," I assured her. "I think you balance each other well. Perhaps you just need to learn how to communicate a little better, and have more patience as you work through your conflicts."

She nodded slowly. "I hope so."

Just then, Lyndsay's console trilled out a notification as another shuttle turned into the corridor behind us. " _Tereshkova_ to _Drake_ ," came Chakotay's voice through the com.

My lips curled into a smile. "How many do you have left, Tay?"

"Six. You?"

"Same"

"I guess B'Elanna and I had better speed it up, then," he said, a smile apparent in his tone. "I can't have you finishing faster than me."

"Whatever you say, old man," I teased. "I'll make sure Neelix keeps your dinner warm for you."

"How thoughtful," he panned. "Either way, my order stands. Whatever you do, do not let Paris and Kim win."

"Don't worry, sir. I have no intention of losing any replicator rations today."

"Not even to your husband?" he asked, suspicion salting his question.

I smiled. " _Especially_ not to my husband."

* * *

It was standard Federation starship practice to organize the duty roster into three shifts— alpha, beta, and gamma— and _Voyager_ ran by the book more often than not. But, as the more ambitious junior officers began requesting advanced trainings and kick-in shifts on bridge duty, it made less sense to stick with that standard, and the senior officers opted to add a delta shift to the rotation. With my own duties evolving to center less around formal counseling and more around divisional oversight, Chakotay asked me to take over gamma shift so he could keep Tuvok on the dog shift, and I begrudgingly agreed.

So, it happened that I was the officer on the bridge when the comnet control station notified us of an incoming hail from the Beta Quadrant.

"Who is it from?" I asked Crewman Celes, who was manning ops that night.

"There's a starship within range of one of the farthest comnet nodes," she answered, her voice trembling. "It's Federation."

Without thinking, I launched myself out of the command seat. "Notify the captain, priority two."

"Aye, sir."

Then, taking a deep breath to steady myself, I ordered, "Open a channel. On screen."

The image of a male Trill captain instantly filled the view screen, and it took all of my self-control to maintain a professional demeanor. He blinked with surprise when he saw me— surely, he knew at a glance who I was— but he recovered quickly. "This is Captain Jemen Tezr of the _USS Bonshune_. I apologize for the late hour, but we came as soon as we received your message on subspace. It was… unexpected, to say the least. _Voyager_ was declared lost with all hands ten months ago."

I allowed myself a slight smile. "Yes, I imagine that it was, Captain. I am Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia. On behalf of the entire _Voyager_ crew, I'd like to thank you for your haste. We weren't expecting to get a response for at least another seven weeks."

He nodded. "Yes, well, it is fortunate for you then that our vessel is on a deep space mission not far from this communications node. We have already redirected your message to headquarters; once they process it, I am sure they will contact your families and begin collecting personal letters for your crew. Command will likely want to communicate with Captain Janeway at some point in the near future, as well."

"Of course."

"We're transmitting you an update on major events from the past three years. I should warn you— the Federation has recently entered into a war with the Dominion, and we have already suffered a number of casualties." Then, he gave me a solemn, sympathetic look. "The Maquis have suffered even worse. I am sorry to have to bear such news."

The _whoosh_ of the turbolift doors sounded behind me. Within seconds, Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay were at my side.

"Captain Janeway," Tezr greeted. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

As he introduced himself and reiterated what he had told me, I made my way back to ops to oversee the transmission. "Prepare a response," I quietly told Celes. "They'll want the ship's logs, navigational records, and crew reports."

"Aye, sir. The _Bonshune's_ transmission has been fully downloaded. Should I integrate it with our database?"

"No. We'll have to prepare the crew for bad news first. Encode it with a level six clearance for now. We'll integrate it after we distribute the casualty reports." Having one ear still on the conversation happening in front of us, I waited for Janeway's word before ordering Celes, "Send the response."

After Captain Tezr closed the channel, Janeway pivoted to look from Chakotay to me, and the grin on her face quickly faded to a concerned frown. Chakotay's eyes were locked on mine; our fears about the demise of the Maquis were all but confirmed. The captain put a hand on his chest. "Route the transmission to my ready room. You and Talia can look over the casualty lists there."

My eyes snapped to her. "Captain, I—"

She waved me off. "I relieve you. Go."

"I stand relieved," I mumbled before following Chakotay into the ready room.

* * *

By the time I got back to my quarters in the early hours of the morning, I was numb. The Maquis had been wiped out exactly as my vision had depicted; in fact, the Prophet had shown me Dukat's speech, word-for-word, the way it had been broadcast. With the exception of the Maquis who had been in Federation custody, everyone was dead. We were the last cell left alive.

The Bajoran refugees, too, were massacred by Dominion forces. However, about a thousand of them managed to escape in the hours before the attack thanks to Marnah's last-minute defection from the Maquis. Her whole cell, along with five others, followed her out of the Badlands with a small fleet of ships to evacuate the Valo system.

She was not on board any of those ships when they arrived on Bajor.

Even then, after giving up her life to rescue innocent civilians, Starfleet refused to let her record show her as anything but a terrorist. In fact, none of the Maquis who died were left with anything honorable in their records— if they even had records at all.

Pained as I was to read such news, it wasn't the worst part. That, at least, I had been prepared for by the Prophet. What hurt me even more was the list of Starfleet personnel who had been killed in the line of duty since the start of the war just a few weeks prior. On that particular list were the names of people who should have still been alive and relatively safe, compared to those in the Maquis who knew how large was the risk they took.

So, I was entirely unprepared to see the names and photos of two people I loved more than almost anyone listed among the war's first casualties— Commander Alexander James Peters IV and Lieutenant Commander Melissa Peters.

My brother and his wife.

* * *

When the door chime sounded, I didn't move or speak. I had no energy to. How long had it been since I got the news? Three days? A week? I couldn't remember. I was starting to think that I was locked-in, or perhaps even dead. Maybe the next day would be better. Even if it wasn't, I'd have to find a way to drag myself out of bed in spite of it, because duty stopped for no one in the Delta Quadrant. But, the next day had yet to arrive, and I had nowhere to be for hours. So, I did not answer the chime when it sounded. Eventually, the visitor would give up and leave me alone.

Except, that was not what happened. After several seconds, the doors _whooshed_ open, traitorously admitting entrance to Captain Janeway herself. Had I been capable of feeling any emotion other than despair, I would have jumped to attention straight away. As it was, the blackness inside of me may as well have been a blindfold; I couldn't even look up to meet her eyes.

Without a word, she pushed aside the coffee table that stood in between the couch where I lay and the two chairs across from it. Then, grabbing the armrests on one of the chairs, she dragged it forward until it was directly beside me. Once the chair was positioned to her satisfaction, she sat, crossed one knee over the other, and stayed for several minutes in complete silence, simply existing there with me.

When, at last, she did speak, it was immediately clear that she expected no response. The story she told may have been more for her benefit than mine; I couldn't be sure. Either way, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

"I've never been the easiest patient," she began. "I'm sure I must drive you up a wall from time to time. But, you've always been so respectful of my space. You rarely push me to tell you things I'd rather not talk about; only when it's absolutely necessary do you force your hand. You know that I like to be in control, and you allow it, even when I don't have the right. Yet, you also manage to challenge me in exactly the way I need to be challenged. I want you to know that, because I'm not sure I've ever let you see just how much you have helped me along this journey. Now, I think it's time I returned the gesture."

A tense silence fell over her then. Her knees uncrossed, both feet planting themselves on the floor, and she leaned forward to brace her elbows on the tops of her legs. Roused slightly from my stupor by a spark of surprise and confusion, my eyes slid up to find hers, and when she glanced over at me, there were tears beginning to spill over her eyelids and roll down her cheeks.

My breath caught in my chest. Never, not once in three years, had I seen my captain cry. Even in her more honest and stripped-down moments, she had never ceased to be the immovable rock that the Voyager family was built on. But there, as I laid on that couch where I had cocooned myself in grief, the shock of seeing Captain Janeway so vulnerable and broken made something stir inside of me, reminding me that I was still alive.

Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, she opened up to me about the events that lead up to the darkest time in her life— the shuttle accident that stole the lives of her father and her first fiancé, right before her eyes. The incident wasn't unknown to me; I'd read about it in her psychological records when I first came on board. I'd never asked about it, and she'd never shared. Hearing it from her, that always-strong voice trembling under its weight, was almost like watching it happen. As her tale progressed, I felt tears begin to prick at the corners of my eyes. The rawness of her voice made me wonder at her willingness to repeat it, yet she continued speaking aloud the horror of the scene where she had tried and failed to save the two men she loved most. I found myself reaching a hand out to grasp hers, bringing warmth to my cold fingers.

Then, sinking to her knees on the floor in front of me, she admitted, "After the accident, I didn't get out of bed for months. I wished so much that I had died in that lake with them."

Her confession felt like a knife twisting in my chest, carving a mortal wound into my numbness and drawing blood. I squeezed my eyes shut as they flooded with hot tears, and an ugly, gurgling sob ripped out of my throat. How many times had I repeated that very sentiment to myself, like some kind of twisted mantra meant to keep me focused on the crushing, ever-present guilt? _It should have been me. It should have been me. It should have been me._

I felt her hand grasp the side of my face, and I opened my eyes to look at her. "I want you to know," she said, "you can talk to me any time. I'm no grief counselor, but I know what it's like to lose your family senselessly, to be the one who survived when you think you shouldn't have. If you just want some company, just com me, and I'll come sit with you. I won't talk unless you ask me to. Or, you can curl up on my couch. I'll even kick Chakotay out if that's what you need. But, don't try to get through this alone."

Somehow, the woman had managed to pop the cork on all of my emotions, and I snorted a tearful laugh. That was the first time she'd admitted to me that she and Chakotay were living together. Something in those compassionate blue eyes of hers shined a light on the dark pit I'd fallen into, and I reached for it like a tree. Slowly, quietly, I rose to a sitting position. Then, I slid down from the couch to the floor beside her, sinking to my knees and threading my arms around her waist as she wrapped me up tightly in her embrace.

No, she wasn't the counseling partner that I needed— that deep space missions were supposed to have for precisely this sort of reason. But, somewhere along the line, she had become more than just my captain; she had become my mentor, and one of my dearest friends.

And, for the time being, that was enough.

* * *

I was the last one to arrive in the briefing room the following afternoon, just on the heels of hosting a video conference between Minister Elentia, Minister Jenith, Minister Farid of Nikatos, and General Tah'ket of the Turei Monarchy.

Captain Janeway's head snapped up upon my entry, looking at me with a mix of expectation and lingering empathy as she stood with her arms braced on the back of her chair. "Well?"

I nodded. "It's done. Elentia has been confirmed as the Coalition's minister-liaison to _Voyager_ for the duration of our work with them."

"Good. Thank you, Commander. Have a seat; we're ready to begin." As I obeyed her command, she moved to take her own seat, folding her hands on the table before her. She looked out at the crew who were gathered around the table— Chakotay, Harry, Annika, Dr. Schmullis, and myself— and cleared her throat. "What have you found, Doctor?"

Schmullis tilted forward slightly. "As you know, Dr. Kes and I have been monitoring Crewman Hanson's regeneration cycles for the past two weeks. We have confirmed Kes' initial report that these experiences are not dreams, but communications being sent to Ms. Hansen through her neural transceiver."

"The Borg?" Chakotay asked warily.

"If the Collective wished to communicate with me," Annika pointed out, squaring her science-blue-clad shoulders as she spoke, "they would do so openly, and they would not create such an elaborate interactive visual illusion."

"If I may," Harry interjected, bringing everyone's attention to him. "It's a tri-axillating modulation being sent at Crewman Hansen's exact interlink frequency. Whoever is sending it has managed to tap into the Turei comnet completely unnoticed. I only found it because Annika told me what to look for."

"What is the source of the transmission, Lieutenant?" Janeway asked him.

"The signal is coming from a location about thirty-four thousand light years from here— near the border between the Delta and Beta quadrants."

"Should we report this to Minister Elentia?" I asked.

Janeway shook her head. "Not yet. We've been very fortunate to secure this trade alliance with the Turei. Until we know more about this communication, I don't want to risk it. Besides," she said, jutting out her chin, "this is a medical condition, and Crewman Hansen is protected by confidentiality protocol. Therefore, we will all respect her rights by keeping this knowledge confidential. Understood?"


	5. Act of War

**Act of War**

* * *

News of what happened to the Maquis, and of the Federation at war, did not go well with the crew.

According to the reports, the Maquis had been winning their war with the Cardassian Empire. Many of the colonial leaders had already been making plans to declare their worlds as independent states. But with the Obsidian Order in shambles, and Central Command overthrown by the Cardassian people, Gul Dukat saw his opportunity to seize power and wipe out his enemies in one blow— and he succeeded.

Some in Starfleet were horrified by the massacre of the Maquis, and felt that Dukat's actions showed just how right we had been about the Cardassians all along. Others were indifferent, and felt that the Maquis got was was coming to them. A few seemed to believe that our actions to weaken the Cardassian government were what drove them into the open arms of the Dominion, and they blamed us for the war.

I was far from the only crew member who lost loved ones in the Federation's war with the Dominion. Most of the officers lost friends and acquaintances; even Harry felt the sting of death that poisoned our whole crew upon finding the name of his friend, Lieutenant Daniel Byrd, on the casualty list. At first, sorrows shared between the Starfleet crew and the former Maquis seemed to strengthen our bonds. Once the initial shock wore off, however, tensions rose quickly.

It started out as little more than an argument here or an altercation there. I did my absolute best to force some professional, emotional distance into my response to the anger, but more and more of the crew pressed me to make a judgement one way or another. Just speaking about my mother or my brother was enough to trigger resentment against me for having a foot on both sides of the growing divide.

Soon, my old night terrors began to resurface, and I had no choice but to be relieved of all counseling duties. Up until that point, I had bent a few ethical protocols and justified it with our extreme circumstances. But, to continue attempting to act as a counselor to these people when the very same wounds bore deep into my own soul would have been unforgivable.

So, instead, I filled my time with more innocuous duties in science, diplomacy, and command. I tried not to let myself think about all the ways I was letting the crew down, or about what could become of us all if we didn't resolve our differences soon.

* * *

Three weeks after our contact with the _USS Bonshune_ , Minister Elentia secured a distant but potentially lucrative trade relationship between us and a people called the B'omar. It would take us almost a week to get to their space, and much of the trip would be made along the dangerous Krenim border, but with our astrometrics lab newly finished and our anti-chroniton shields in place, we were confident that the risk would be minimal.

Captain Janeway and Lt. Commander Tuvok remained on Nikatos to oversee the search for the _Equinox_ and to await our next transmission from the Federation, leaving Chakotay and I to lead _Voyager_ on the trade mission.

During our journey along the Krenim border, we were attacked a grand total of three times. Each conflict was entirely unprovoked, and they refused to communicate with us at all. Even so, the information Kes had given us about their weapons and defenses proved to be quite valuable, and we only sustained minor damage.

Elentia's instincts about trading with the B'omar had been spot-on. Like the Turei, they were highly suspicious of outsiders, but they were on good terms with the Zahl and responded well to our efforts to be culturally sensitive in our work with them.

By the time we left, we were fully stocked with nearly every mineral we needed for maintaining _Voyager's_ systems, along with several samples of new plants to integrate into our airponics bay. Neelix also managed to pick up a few stories from the traders, warning him of ghost-pirates and hunters who lived in the large nebula that bordered B'omar space; Elentia, however, laughed these tales off as being baseless spacefarers' myths. All in all, we were feeling quite confident as we began our long journey back to Nikatos.

Little did we know how short-lived that confidence would be.

* * *

I was in the mess hall with Elentia, sharing a late dinner before I was due to relieve Harry from bridge watch. As I cleared my plate and pushed it back, I noticed Lyndsay Ballard and Tal Celes walk in together, hand-in-hand. I smiled when they passed by.

"Are they… romantically involved?" Elentia asked, whispering as if it was some sort of scandal. For her, it was; Zahl culture disapproved of both inter-species and same-sex relationships among their own people.

I nodded. "They are. Same-sex romantic attachments are quite common among Terran and Bajoran cultures. The Federation treats them just the same as any other relationship."

"How fortunate they are," she murmured.

I watched her carefully as she forced her amber eyes back to me and blinked away a look of longing. I had gotten to know the young and ambitious woman well since we first met at her home colony, and I was quietly becoming familiar with her tells. This particular one made me want to know more, even as it pained me. It was not my place to judge her culture at all; certainly, the Zahl had not made any judgements about ours. Still, I hated to see anyone being refused happiness or love, no matter what the reason.

Just then, my combadge chirped, and the computer alerted me to the time. "Ah," I sighed, "I should head up to the bridge. I told Chakotay I'd go up a few minutes early to—"

My sentence was cut off suddenly when weapons-fire slammed into _Voyager_ , causing the ship to lurch violently off-course and drop instantly out of warp. The red alert klaxon barely had time to sound before a deafening screech reverberated across the hull. As I dragged myself onto my feet, I heard the emergency bulkheads surrounding deck one snap into place, and my heart dropped into my gut.

There was a hull breach.

Looking up to the viewport, I gasped as I watched a tractor beam lifting a cut of _Voyager's_ forward hull up and into the belly of a massive black vessel that hovered over us. I tried to hail the bridge, but got no response. In fact, I couldn't raise anyone anywhere on the ship; the entire com system was down. As soon as the alien ship had secured our hull fragment, it went to warp, disappearing with a flash of light. Moments later, there was an explosion somewhere far below my feet, and main power went down.

Upon sending Lyndsay and Tal to examine the panel in the corridor, I learned that Voyager's main computer was offline, and we were only running on backup power. With access to the bridge cut off, and no way to know if anyone was alive up there, my first objective was to set up a command center and take charge of the ship. After the bridge, the next best place to go was main engineering.

It was nine decks down through the jeffries tubes.

I forced myself to focus on the task at hand, and not to think about the very real possibility that Harry, Chakotay, Iliana, and everyone else who had been on deck one was dead.

"Celes, Neelix!" I barked, and both crewmen immediately snapped to attention. "I need you two to stay here. If sickbay isn't safe, this may have to become a triage center. Grab medkits, offer whatever aid you can to anyone who needs it, and try to locate someone with more medical training who can assist you. When possible, send search parties to go section by section through the ship. I need damage reports, casualty reports, and as many officers as you can find to get repair teams going. Their priority should be reestablishing inter-ship communications."

"Aye, sir," they both replied.

"Ballard, you're with me. We need to establish a command center, and, if possible, it should be in engineering. Along the way, we'll be looking for major damage and any of the other senior officers."

Lyndsay nodded grimly.

"Elentia," I said in a lower tone as I turned to our liaison, "did you recognize the configuration of the vessel that attacked us?"

Her face had drained of blood, and her eyes were wide with fear as she bowed shakily in response. "That was the _Solassat_ ," she rasped, her voice trembling. "The queen's ship. But, I don't understand…"

"Don't understand what? Why would Queen Kyana attack _Voyager_ and then leave?"

Elentia dropped her gaze to the floor and tilted her head to the left side— a Zahl way to express negativity or disagreement. "This is Annorax's doing. The section of hull that he extracted was a sample. Likely, he also copied and uploaded your database into his own, and took a sampling of your crew."

I blinked. "A sampling of the crew?"

"Two would be standard procedure."

"—because he's a scientist, and he wants to study us," I ventured.

The minister bowed, affirming my conclusion.

 _Fuck. Fuck fuck._ "How do you know all of this? No—" I threw up my hand, cutting off her response before she made it. "I don't have time right now." I took a breath and kept my tone even. "Stay here, Elentia. For now, this is the safest place for you to be." When she acknowledged my command with a deep bow, I turned on my heel and strode towards the door, barely hearing Lyndsay's footfalls behind me over the pounding of my heart.

* * *

Annorax made off with the entire forward bulkhead of _Voyager's_ upper sensor array on deck four. There had been two sensor analysts on duty in that lab.

No one was in there anymore.

 _Chief Petty Officer Tori Lang. Crewman Jesus Montalvo._ Harry's people. I bowed my head and quickly crossed myself. Anything to honor them, meaningless as it may have felt to me at the moment. No death should go unacknowledged.

 _This is why I hate command._

Most likely, I knew, their bodies were still floating in space— blown out before the emergency force field could reestablish containment, no doubt thanks to the massive power drain during the short-lived conflict. They were nowhere in sight by the time Lyndsay and I arrived to examine the damage, however, and I was glad for that. Better that they were just gone rather than having their mutilated faces seared into my memory and haunting my dreams.

Of course, it wasn't any easier to see the casualties wrought by Annorax's attack when Lyndsay and I made our way into sickbay on the next deck down. The situation there was made worse by the fact that Dr. Schmullis could not be brought online, and Kes was treating casualties with only the assistance of a young biology lab tech. I promised her that I would send someone to work on getting our CMO back as soon as I could. Twenty-two serious injuries had been reported, and there were sure to be more.

Two more crew were dead, bringing the toll to four. _Ensign Ahmad. Crewman N'tahn_. What would it do to their families, having Starfleet send word that we were alive in the Delta Quadrant, writing letters to loved ones they had already grieved for once, only to find out that those letters were too late? I couldn't bear to think of it.

I longed to ask Kes if she could sense anyone alive on the bridge. I didn't. She had her hands full, and it would have been incredibly selfish.

Instead, Lyndsay and I gathered our data and got out of there as quickly as we could.

* * *

We were climbing down the ladder to the junction on deck eight when we heard whimpers echoing inside of a jeffries tube. At first, I was afraid that Naomi Wildman had panicked and bolted from Sam's quarters on deck ten, but the voice sounded more adult than hers. Motioning for Lyndsay to wait quietly in the juncture, I proceeded into the tube and crawled towards the source of the terrified crying.

At the end of the corridor, I found Annika curled into a tight ball and pressed as far into the corner as she could fit.

"Annika?" I asked gently as I approached her. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Are you frightened of something?"

Her blue-green eyes quickly shifted up and around the tube before meeting my own. "Are they here?" she croaked in a trembling, little-girl voice.

"Who?"

"The Borg. Are they going to take me away?"

"No, Annika. There are no Borg in this part of space. We were attacked by the Krenim, but they're gone now. We're okay. We're just trying to get the ship moving again."

Annika blinked as she processed my words. "No one is being assimilated?"

I shook my head. "No. We're all staying right here. Do you know where you are?"

She nodded, and her rigid body began to slowly relax. " _Voyager_."

I smiled. "That's right. Where were you when the attack happened?"

"Astrometrics."

"Was anyone else in there with you?"

She nodded. "Ensign Jennifer Delaney."

"Is she hurt?"

"No," Annika replied, sounding more like herself. "She was undamaged."

"Good. I have Ensign Ballard with me; she's in the juncture back there waiting. We're surveying the damage on our way to engineering. Would you like to come with us?"

She nodded, unfolding her body as I called for Lyndsay and popped open the hatch onto deck eight.

* * *

Upon reaching the sealed doors to cargo bay two, we finally found some of the other senior officers.

Tom and B'Elanna had been working late, trying to finish taking inventory on everything we had after the trade mission, when the attack happened. As per containment protocol, the bay was sealed when the computer had detected the hull breach. Just after Annorax left, several EPS relays overloaded, causing the main computer to fail and preventing the deactivation of the containment protocols.

They had been trapped ever since.

It took several minutes, but eventually, Lyndsay and B'Elanna managed to coordinate their efforts on both sides of the doors and release the seal. Annika then offered her Borg-enhanced strength to pry the doors open, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight of the mussed caramel-blonde hair and blue eyes waiting across the threshold for me.

I had a first officer. I was no longer carrying this disastrous command alone.

Launching myself at him, I threw my arms around his neck and allowed one sob— just one— to escape from inside of me, alleviating some of the pressure that had been building in my chest. I felt his warm arms wrap around my back, reinforcing my brittle soul.

"The bridge?" he asked when I pulled away.

I blinked back tears and shook my head, forcing myself to harden once more. "It's blocked off entirely by emergency bulkheads. I don't even know if— if anyone is still up there."

A brief, fleeting look of pain crossed his face, but he quickly steeled himself, as well. "So you're in charge, then. I guess the plan is to get to engineering and set up a command center?"

I nodded.

Replacing the cover on the panel where she had been working and snapping her repair case firmly shut, B'Elanna stood and made her way over to us. She cleared her throat. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

By the time we got to main engineering, Lieutenant Joe Carey and Ensign Vorik had already been hard at work trying to get the ship functioning again. As a command-qualified officer, Joe was able to reroute command controls, which made my job much easier. He gave me a quick status report and transferred command in the system to me, then got right back to repairs. I was glad to have him at hand.

B'Elanna, however, merely glared at him.

Initially, I dismissed her reaction as an effect of the tensions that had arisen between Starfleet and Maquis crew after receiving news of the Dominion War. She had come a long way in the past three years since Captain Janeway made her the chief, but she still ran on a short fuse. Death glares weren't out of character for the young engineer.

A few minutes of observing Joe's crew and the shift in dynamic once B'Elanna took over engineering tasks, however, made me realize that perhaps it was Joe's immaturity and prejudice at work, rather than hers. He didn't trust the former Maquis, and they all knew it.

With a deep breath, I set about reviewing the activity logs, starting just before the attack. Relief flooded through me once I learned that there the bridge was still in tact, and I made an audible gasp when I saw Harry's command code appear in the logs. Tom clapped my shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

Not only had Harry survived, his quick thinking prevented the EPS relay explosion from destroying half the ship. He was trapped and cut off from us for the time being, but he was okay.

My relief was short-lived, however, as another reality began to dawn on me. If Harry had been in charge of the bridge, that meant Chakotay was either incapacitated or dead. Or, if Elentia's assertion about Annorax collecting a personnel sample proved to be true, it could also mean that Chakotay had become a prisoner of the Krenim Imperium.

Either way, command of _Voyager_ had fallen to me.


	6. Hunted

**Hunted**

* * *

Acting Captain's Log, Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia: Stardate 51206.3

After working for twelve hours straight, we were able to get enough impulse power to take shelter inside of a large nebula, which will keep us from being detected while we continue to make repairs. Although Minister Elentia dismissed the B'omar tales of dangerous aliens living inside the nebula as mere ghost stories, I've ordered constant scans of the area— at least, as far as our sensors can reach in the gasses— just to be safe. As of this morning, Chief Torres is projecting another eighteen hours before we have warp drive again. Then, we can return to Nikatos and start working out a plan to get Commander Chakotay and Crewman Ghemor back from General Annorax.

* * *

The sound of the door chime jolted me from my tunnel vision as I sat at Captain Janeway's desk reviewing sensor logs from the day of Annorax's attack. "Come in," I answered with a heavy sigh.

Kathryn was not going to be happy when we got back.

The doors to the ready room _whooshed_ open, admitting Crewman Annika Hansen wearing a crisp science uniform and carrying a PADD. I couldn't help the slight frown that crossed my face at the sight of her, looking as clean and awake as always, while I was a haggard mess of frizzy ginger curls and rumpled day-old clothes.

I couldn't help but think about how much more efficient Borg regeneration was to sleep.

"Astrometrics sensor repairs are complete, Commander," she said, offering me her report. I took it from her hand and skimmed over the contents as she continued. "I have included a summary of both the repair logs and of our latest sensor readings."

"Anything out there?" I asked without looking up.

"Gas," she replied, with just the slightest tone of sarcasm in her voice.

I glanced up and smiled at her single quirked-up human eyebrow. Megan Delaney was rubbing off on her more and more every day. Perhaps I hadn't needed to worry so much about how she would manage without my counseling for a while; she seemed to be adapting to _Voyager_ just fine on her own. I made a mental note of that thought, wanting to circle back to it once our present crisis was over.

"Thank you, Crewman," I said, setting down the PADD. "Good work."

"I hoped that I might speak with you in another capacity," she ventured awkwardly. "As a counselor. Or, perhaps, as a—" She paused for a beat, the word feeling alien on her tongue. "—friend."

"Of course," I responded warmly, coming to my feet and rounding the desk to meet her face-to-face. She still preferred standing over sitting, so I generally made an effort to be on my feet whenever we talked.

"The other day, when you discovered me in the jeffries tube on deck eight, I was having a… disturbing… experience." She paused then, frustrated in her attempt to describe what had happened.

"We refer to it as a panic attack," I offered in the silence. "It's a common affliction among most humanoid species."

"It was deeply unsettling," she concluded bluntly. "I am still attempting to cope with experiencing human emotions as part of my individuality. However, I believed that I had begun to master the issue. Now, I am unsure. I do not wish to fail this crew in my duties. I must know what can be done, so as to avoid becoming emotionally compromised in the future."

I leaned back slightly, perching my hips on the edge of the captain's desk. "I'm not sure I can give you a quick, easy answer here. There are certainly things we can do together, or that you can do alone, to help you learn how to manage your emotions. There are also some medical interventions that we can discuss with Dr. Schmullis that might make it easier.

"Ultimately, this is something that takes most of us two decades or more to learn as we mature from childhood into adulthood— an experience that you didn't have. I don't tell you this because I want to discourage you, but so that you understand that you can't expect yourself to instantly become just like everyone else here. We have all had lifetimes of practice managing our emotions; you have not. Already, you have progressed above and beyond my expectations. And, you will keep progressing, because you are learning from your experiences." I smiled. "Just like the rest of us."

Annika gave an unsatisfied sigh.

"You know," I mused aloud, "I wonder if you might like Vulcan meditation techniques."

"Enjoyment is irrelevant," she insisted. "Would it assist me in mastering my emotions?"

"I think it might. I took it up in graduate school under the tutelage of a Vulcan professor I had who suggested it might help me to carry the extra burden of my patients' emotions as well as my own, and I've found it to be quite effective. Kes, too, has benefitted a great deal from Tuvok's guidance in the practice. I'm sure he would be willing to teach you."

Annika nodded. "I will ask him." She turned to go, but paused and pivoted back. "Thank you, Commander."

I smiled once more. Yes, she would be just fine. "You are quite welcome, Annika."

* * *

Less than an hour later, my focus was interrupted yet again— this time, by a nearby explosion that rattled the ship and triggered an automatic yellow alert. Quickly, I deactivated the computer console and made my way onto the bridge.

"Report," I snapped as I took my seat in the center dais.

"Three vessels just appeared on sensors," Harry answered. "Two small unknown ships, and the _Equinox_."

My eyes went wide as I looked over at Tom, who sat in the executive chair next to me. "This is confirmed?"

He nodded. "It's definitely them."

"The lead alien vessel is firing again," Ayala reported from tactical, and _Voyager_ trembled again with the motion of gasses being excited by their weapon's energy beams. "Direct hit on their port nacelle. The _Equinox's_ engines are failing."

"Should I take us out of grey mode, help them out?" Tom asked.

I drummed my fingers on the armrest of the command chair. "Harry, have the alien ships detected us yet?"

"It doesn't look like they have."

Go with standard procedure, or pull a Maquis trick to save us from further repairs?

"Bates," I called to the ensign manning _Voyager's_ helm controls, "take engineering. Tom, take the con."

A smile curved his lips up as he read the look in my eyes. Maquis tricks were so much more fun to carry out than Starfleet procedures. "Yes, ma'am."

As Tom sunk into his usual seat, I stood from Janeway's chair and breathed a silent prayer. "Alright, people, here's the plan. Tom, you're going to sneak in on top of the _Equinox_. Harry, as soon as we're in position, bring us out of grey mode, go to red alert, and get a tractor on that ship; I don't want them trying to disappear while we get their friends off their back. Mike, the moment you have phasers, take out the aliens' weapons."

Within minutes, _Equinox_ was ours.

"Hail the lead vessel," I ordered.

"On screen," Harry said.

A huge man with corded, rust-colored skin and a spiked, metal helmet appeared on the display, and I introduced myself. "This is Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia of the Federation Starship _Voyager._ I'd like to thank you for finding our missing comrades and bringing them safely to us. Do you require any payment for your aid before we go on our way?"

"This prey belongs to the Hirogen!" the man barked. "Disengage your energy net at once, or we will hunt you next!"

"As I said, these are _our_ people, but we'd be happy to compensate you for your loss, Mister—"

"No compensation! We will have our prey!"

"You're hardly in a position to make such demands. We have no interest in fighting you, but we are taking our people back, one way or another. If you're not interested in a peaceful trade, then I suggest we both turn around and leave."

The man narrowed his eyes. "An alpha _never_ gives up the hunt. If you steal my prey, then I will hunt you down, as well. When I find you, you will watch your people die at the hands of the Hirogen. Then, I will kill you myself, and your skull will adorn my wall."

I smirked. "Oh, I think you'd be rather bored with me, Alpha. You seem like such an impressive hunter, and we're little more than a group of simple scientists. So, since we have the advantage at the moment, we'll just be on our way. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I swirled my left pointer finger in the air beside my head, signaling Harry to cut the transmission. "Get us out of their sensor range, Tom."

"Gladly."

"I guess the B'omar were right about hunters in the nebula," Harry said.

"Indeed," I murmured, making a mental note to discuss the issue with Elentia later.

"The alien vessels have scanned us, but they are moving off now, sir," Mike reported.

"Good," I said. "Hail the _Equinox_. I think it's time we introduced ourselves to our new friends."

A middle-aged, grey-haired, Terran man with serious features appeared on the screen. I smiled, clasping my hands behind my back. "Captain Ransom, I am Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia of the _USS Voyager_. How can we be of assistance?"

He squinted at me, obviously trying to place my identity. I saw his expression change the moment he realized who I was, but he said nothing of it and instead gave a terse nod. "We could use a few medical and repair teams, as well as any supplies you can spare."

"We'll send some right away," I promised.

"I… wasn't expecting to run into any other Federation ships in the Delta Quadrant."

"Well, once we get your repairs underway, I'd be happy to welcome you aboard and tell you everything you want to know."

He hesitated, simultaneously suspicious of my offer and disconcerted over leaving his own ship.

"I assure you, Captain," I told him soothingly, "that I harbor you no ill will. In fact, I'd like us to help each other out. The Delta Quadrant is a dangerous place, and it's good to see a friendly face."

Finally, he nodded his assent.

* * *

"Welcome to _Voyager_ , Captain Ransom," I greeted him warmly as Mike escorted him and his first officer were escorted into the briefing room.

"Miss Eelo," he grunted in reply.

" _Lieutenant Commander_ Eelo," I corrected before gesturing to Tom, who was in Chakotay's usual seat at my left. "This is Lieutenant Tom Paris, my acting first officer. You've already met Lieutenant Michael Ayala, my security officer."

"Are any of you really Starfleet?" he bit out, having taken note of our field-commission rank bars where he and his first wore officer's pips.

"We all are," I assured him. "As I said, we bear you no ill will. You'll notice that every officer— and most of the enlisted— wear Starfleet uniforms, and we all operate under Starfleet protocols. I promise, this is not a Maquis trick. Now, if you gentlemen will have a seat, I can explain how we came to be here."

Glancing at the officer beside him, and receiving an affirming nod in response, Ransom accepted my statement and took the seat to my right. "This is my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Burke," he said, gesturing to the young, dark-haired man he had brought with him.

"Welcome, Commander," I responded, giving a respectful nod.

"Where is your commanding officer?" Ransom demanded.

"For now, I am the commanding officer here. Captain Janeway is away with our Chief Tactical Officer at the moment, working with some trade partners about twelve light years from our present location."

Both men visibly relaxed at the knowledge that we still answered to a legitimate Starfleet officer.

I continued. "We were returning from a trade mission of our own when we were attacked by a species known as the Krenim, and we took shelter in this nebula to make repairs."

"The Krenim?"

"Have you heard of them?"

He shook his head. "Haven't had the pleasure. How is it that a Maquis terrorist ended up commanding the newest and most advanced ship in the fleet sixty thousand light-years from home?"

I smiled. "It's a long story, Captain. Suffice it to say, I was with my cell on a Maquis raider in the Badlands three years ago when we were brought to this quadrant against our will by an alien entity known as—"

"—the Caretaker," he finished for me.

I nodded. "May I presume he was responsible for bringing your ship here, as well?"

Ransom nodded, saying nothing.

"Well, once he completed his tests and returned our crew, we found that our ship had been joined there by _Voyager_ , who was sent into the Badlands to find and capture us. After the array was destroyed, and our raider along with it, Captain Janeway decided to integrate our two crews together. Those of us with Starfleet training took the places of the officers she lost, and we've been making our way back home as a single crew ever since."

He grunted.

"Actually, it just so happens that the people with whom Captain Janeway is meeting had recently informed us about your presence in the Delta Quadrant. We were very much hoping to run into you."

"Your captain wouldn't happen to be meeting with the Turei Monarchy, would she?"

"Technically, she and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok are with the Zahl at the moment," I corrected him. "But, yes, they are working on a trade agreement with the Turei."

Commander Burke frowned and shook his head. "I thought you said this wasn't a trick."

Lifting a single digit into the air and waggling it in front of the men, I reminded him, "What I said was that this isn't a _Maquis_ trick, Commander; you should pay more attention to qualifiers." I put down my hand and relished the brief flash of guilt that crossed the young man's face. "But, honestly, it isn't any sort of trick at all. Captain Janeway insisted that the Monarchy agree to abide by Federation penal code if we were to help them track you down, and they did. Your crew is safe. In fact, we even convinced them to drop all charges against you and release custody of your ship and crew to us if you surrender willingly and promise never to violate their underspace again."

"How thoughtful," Burke clipped.

"You should be thanking me, Commander. I've saved your ass twice now. Would you like to know what your fate would have been in the hands of the Monarchy without our intervention? I have a copy of their laws and penal codes in our database, if you're interested."

"You expect us to _thank_ you?!" he snapped incredulously. "For trading away our only way home?"

Ransom held up a hand, silencing Commander Burke. "I'll grant that you did well to chase off that Hirogen hunting party earlier, Miss Eelo. But, should you be taking credit for Captain Janeway's work to broker this deal with the Turei?"

"As a matter of fact, _Mister_ Ransom, I was the one who convinced the Turei to compromise on their plans for imprisonment, if we were able to obtain your full cooperation. Certainly, Captain Janeway deserves the credit for her work in this agreement to ensure that your rights were protected. But, she gives credit where credit is due. She also does not stand for prejudice or disrespect against any member of her crew, regardless of where we came from. Considering the length of the journey we all have ahead of us, I suggest you remember that."

"We haven't agreed to go with you yet."

I tilted my head to the side. "Would you rather we drag you back to the Monarchy in our tractor beam?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Who the hell are you to make that kind of a threat against me?"

I leaned in closer to him, splaying my hands out on the table before me. "I am the _acting_ _captain_ of this ship; since _Voyager_ is the tactically superior vessel, that means you answer to me, as per Starfleet regulation."

It was a slight bending of the truth on that count— the protocol addressed hierarchy between two ranked captains having no admiral present— but I wagered that he wouldn't be able to call my bluff on such an obscure jot of regulation.

I also wagered that he was the sort of captain who respected a certain gutsy assertiveness in other officers, and I continued my rebuke without pause. "You have been found to be in violation of the borders and laws of a sovereign state, and have thereby also violated regulations for interspecies diplomatic relations. Captain Janeway has gone to a great deal of effort for you, and I have no intention of returning to her empty-handed."

We held each other's stare for a full ten seconds before an approving smile began playing, ever so subtly, on his lips. Had he been testing me?

"No wonder Starfleet wanted you back so badly," he said thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair. "I can see why Captain Janeway put you in command. But, I have to ask, why didn't she have you replicate some new uniforms when she made you her first officer? You don't appear to be short on resources."

I straightened up and folded my hands on the table in front of me. "Actually, I'm Captain Janeway's Chief Science Officer, and her third officer. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok is her second. In order to foster a quick unification of our two crews, she made my cell leader her first officer. I offered her a different skill set."

"Oh? What skill set is that?"

"I primarily serve as the ship's licensed professional counselor, which was my background in Starfleet before I resigned. _Voyager_ wasn't assigned one for such a short mission, so it was a position that desperately needed to be filled."

Both of the men's faces registered degrees of surprise at my revelation. The official notice that Starfleet had released in want of my arrest hadn't listed the specifics of my service record, and it was generally assumed by those who hadn't known me that I was someone of much more importance than counselors tended to be. Indeed, even I had vastly underestimated how badly Federation authorities would want me imprisoned after I left.

I continued. "Once I proved my worth in that particular capacity, Captain Janeway saw fit to entrust me with more responsibilities. We've all learned how to be flexible out here, Captain Ransom, living on such limited resources."

Ransom exchanged a quick glance with his first, then nodded. "I can certainly understand that. Is your executive officer on an away mission, as well?"

I swallowed hard. "Commander Chakotay was taken by the Krenim in the last attack, along with one of our junior engineers. I was acting first officer for the mission."

Such an admission, I knew, could either solidify his trust in me, or nullify it, but there was no way around that particular truth. Multiple teams from _Voyager_ had already transported over to his ship, and they all knew our situation. I watched him closely for any hint of his reaction, one way or the other.

Finally, he nodded. "Alright, Commander, we'll go with you to meet the Turei. But, _Equinox_ needs a lot of work before she'll get anywhere."

"Don't worry, Captain," I replied, returning his slight smile. "Between my crew and yours, I'm sure we'll be on our way in no time at all."

* * *

It took us another two days of hiding to get _Equinox_ in good enough shape to travel back to Nikatos. The dilithium we acquired from the B'omar was much more pure than the little bit they had left in their reactor; once we switched it out and reinitialized their core, it breathed new life into their little ship. We also shared with them our anti-chroniton shield modifications, just in case any more Krenim ships attacked us.

Soon, we were ready to re-enter open space.

As _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ both made our final preparations to leave the relative safety of the nebula, I overheard Tal Celes pose a worried question to Harry as he looked over her latest sensor readings.

"We're going after them, aren't we?" she asked. "When we get Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok back, we'll rescue Commander Chakotay and Crewman Ghemor?"

"Of course we will," I answered from where I stood on the dais, looking out over the bridge crew. I turned to face Tal, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, knowing that we all needed something big to bind us together once again. "Captain Janeway never abandons a member of her crew, and she will rain hellfire on any threat that stands in her way."

Starfleet, Maquis, or otherwise— we could all have faith in that.


	7. The Fire In Her Eyes

**The Fire in Her Eyes**

 _CW: Non-graphic depiction of torture and sexual assault, discussion of trauma relating to torture and sexual assault_

* * *

My eyes were unseeing, but I knew where I was by the smell of the place, and by the familiar weight of his body pressing on my dislocated hip as I laid flat on my back. It was a place I had left behind thousands of light years ago.

It was a place I never really left.

I shuddered at the Kardasi man's cold touch. My arms reflexively moved to intercept his violation, but were quickly— agonizingly— stopped by the blade that skewered my hands and held them to the floor. I screamed with the searing pain of the movement, tears eking from my eyes.

If I were built like a Terran rather than a Bajoran, I could have wrenched my hands free.

But, I wasn't Terran, not really. I had always been a Bajoran without a people and without a home. The alien officer straddling me had figured that out faster than I ever did. He knew that I was nothing but a shadow of someone very important, a voodoo doll to make others suffer from a distance.

He knew that I was truly no one on my own.

Just beyond the sealed doors to the room, I could hear Chakotay's shouts grow more desperate in response to my cries. " _Talia_ —"

Then, I felt myself falling forward.

 _Forward?_

I awoke with a cry when my forehead smacked onto the captain's desk, cracking the edge of the PADD that it landed on.

 _I am so glad this room is soundproof._

Rubbing the sore spot on my head, I stood and made my way up to the replicator. "Raktajino, extra strong." I had barely lifted the steaming cup to my lips when the com chirped.

"Bridge to the ready room," came Harry's voice. "We're receiving a response from Nikatos."

The Klingon coffee turned sour on my tongue, but I swallowed it down anyway and cleared my throat "Thank you, Harry. I'll take it in here."

"Acknowledged." There was worry in his voice that he had stopped trying to hide days ago. "Putting it through."

Settling down once more behind the desk, I tapped a panel on the computer console to open the channel and met the worried eyes of Captain Janeway.

I was getting really fucking tired of other people's worry. Or, maybe, I was just plain tired.

"Report, Commander."

I opened my mouth to reply, but my throat tightened and I choked instead. _Pull yourself together. You're still in command. Act like it, damnit!_

She steeled herself, anticipating the worst.

"We were attacked on our way back from B'omar space. Minister Elentia confirmed that it was the _Solassat_. General Annorax copied our database, took a sample of our hull, and—" My voice snapped off like a twig. _Just say it._ I took a sharp breath. "—abducted Commander Chakotay and Crewman Ghemor."

A muscle in her jaw flinched, but she allowed no emotion to cross her face.

"We took shelter in a nebula to make repairs," I continued, "where we encountered the _Equinox_ being attacked by a species called the Hirogen. After fending off the attackers, we continued repairs on both ships until they were capable of making the trip back. Captain Ransom has come with us willingly to agree to the Turei's terms."

"Projected time of arrival?"

"1900 tomorrow."

She nodded. "Very good, Commander. We'll make preparations for the trial, and see what information we can gather about the _Solassat_."

I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding. Her projected calm was simultaneously encouraging and unnerving, but I did my best to mirror it. "Acknowledged. Is there anything you'd like us to do on our end?"

Finally, she allowed herself a single show of emotion— compassion. "Get some sleep."

I nodded, knowing her order was specifically for me. "I'll try, Captain."

If only I could.

After the com cut out and the screen went black, I stared down at the backs of my hands, scarred until my last breath because of that hateful Kardasi officer. Dermal regenerators hadn't been able heal those particular injuries, severe as they were, and the Maquis had so few resources.

Silently, I reminded myself that he hadn't gotten any farther with me before he died. Seska had burned a hole in his back and carried me safely out to the man she loved. Chakotay had bound my wounds and reminded me of a gentler touch.

Yet, that officer lived on inside of me— carved into my psyche as indelibly as the scars he had carved into my skin.

 _Get some sleep_ , the captain said.

It was such a simple command, meant to ease the burden she knew all too well the crushing weight of. She didn't know that the last time I had let myself sleep, I awoke in such a panic that I attacked my own husband when he touched me, and I had to be sedated. Had he been a less able fighter, I could have hurt him.

So, no. I couldn't obey that order. _Voyager_ couldn't afford to lose yet another commanding officer. I needed to get her to safe harbor before I lost the tenuous grip with which I held onto my sanity.

It wasn't that I thought Kathryn blamed me; I knew that I'd done my best. It was simply the powerlessness I felt at having lost Chakotay and Iliana to the unknown wiles of an alien military power.

It was why I found them as I did in my dreams, still stuck in that place where we had all left pieces of ourselves behind.

Where Chakotay and Seska had refused to leave me behind.

* * *

The morning after we arrived at Nikatos, Captain Janeway called me into her ready room. "I've had a chance to look over your reports and logs, as well as those of Mister Paris, Mister Kim, and Doctors Schmullis and Kes. I've also met with Captain Ransom to discuss your interactions with him."

Her countenance betrayed nothing, and I swallowed hard, somehow feeling like I had let her down even though I knew I had not. At least I'd slept some the night before, after she'd beamed aboard and relieved me of duty. It had been a fitful slumber, but it was the most sleep I'd gotten in a week.

Janeway leaned slightly over her folded hands, which rested atop her desk. "Your performance on this mission was exemplary. If we were nearer to Federation space, I'd recommend you for command. As it is, our next transmission to Starfleet will include a commendation that I have added to your record for your service to this crew and to the crew of the _Equinox_."

Realizing my mouth had fallen open, I snapped it shut and cleared my throat. "Thank you, Captain."

"I am also aware of the inordinate amount of stress that these events have placed you under. I didn't ask for details, but I know that you have suffered physically and psychologically over the past eight days."

"Everyone's been stressed the past eight days, Captain," I snapped. Realizing what I'd said, and how I'd said it, I winced. "I apologize, Captain."

With a sigh, Janeway stood and rounded her desk, making her way over to the replicator on the far side of the office. "Let's talk off the record for a bit. Come." She gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Please," I said, walking across the room and sinking into a cushion.

After replicating a pot, she set it on the low table in front of us and poured two cups, then settled down beside me. Gently, she touched her hand to my shoulder, drawing my eyes to hers.

"Talia, I know that—" she paused momentarily, swallowing down the emotion that had suddenly gripped her throat. "I know that Commander Chakotay and I have been pushing you into more command positions, and you have exceeded our expectations each time. But, I have to wonder if it's becoming too much. Is it too much?"

I sighed and ran my hands over my face. "It's not the command that's too much. And, that's exactly the problem."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

I studied her eyes silently for several seconds as I contemplated how to continue. My captain, my friend; the lines were blurring between the two. No more dancing around the topic. "Surely, you've realized by now that I was never supposed to be a counselor— that there was a reason why Starfleet was so afraid of me joining my mother's resistance efforts, why they were willing to go to great lengths to capture me when I did."

"I have," she said carefully.

"They never took seriously my insistence on switching educational tracks. They wanted to believe that someday I'd get bored with mental healthcare and diplomacy, and I'd realize that I belonged in intelligence. And I let them think that, because they pulled strings to put me in classes no one else in my department could even dream of taking."

I shrugged. "I thought it would make me look impressive to captains whose ships I wanted to serve on."

The captain gave me a sympathetic look. "I certainly wouldn't have turned you down."

"Well, thank you, but the truth is that my request would never have even crossed your desk. They weren't about to send someone like me off on some exploratory science mission, not when I could be their eyes and ears on the Cardassian border." I looked down at my hands, one thumb tracing the outline of the scar in my other palm. "I thought I was fighting them, getting what I wanted, but I played right into their hands. Even with the Maquis, I lived in my mother's shadow. I was never free, not really, until the day you got me back in uniform and pinned a bar onto my collar."

I looked up again, finding Kathryn's lips quirked up to one side the way they often did in response to an expression of meaningful sentiment.

"It's not command that bothers me. Not here. For that, at least, I have others to lean on. But, I'm the _only_ counselor— on two ships now— in deeper space than anyone could dream of reaching. I have no one to share that burden with, nor anyone to help me cope when—" my voice broke off with the sudden clenching of my throat.

She grasped my hands, blinking against a swell of moisture in her eyes that mirrored my own.

"I can hear him," I admitted in a choked whisper, unable to hold it inside any longer. "Chakotay. Every time I close my eyes now, he's there, on the other side of a sealed door at a Cardassian outpost, trying to reach me. But, he might as well have been a thousand light years away. He never forgave himself for what happened to me in there, as if it was somehow his fault. Now, I just keep thinking—"

I stopped myself from finishing the sentence, suddenly becoming aware that I was talking to the woman who loved him. Swearing at myself internally, I wondered at the magnitude of my failure as a friend for dragging her spirit down with mine.

But Janeway was staring down at my hands, likely realizing for the first time where the hideous scars on them had come from. "I suspected as much," she murmured, "but I never knew for sure."

"He didn't tell you?"

Kathryn shook her head.

"But, you guessed? How? How could you know to even think of such a thing unless—" She raised her head, and the raw look in her eyes stopped me short.

She had been through Cardassian torture, too.

" _Un'Bentel_ ," I whispered in shock. That incident had _not_ been in her psychological records.

By the way she looked at me, and said nothing, I knew it was something she had been required by the highest levels of Starfleet to bury and never speak of again.

"I attacked Harry," I suddenly found myself confessing to her. "Four nights ago. I was dreaming about it. He tried to wake me, but I thought he was—" I swallowed hard, the very word burning a hole in my tongue. "—trying to rape me."

She nodded slowly, knowingly.

"I spent half the morning sedated in sickbay. I was afraid to sleep after that. Besides, I had a ship to run."

She squeezed my hands with hers.

"Does it ever go away?" I whispered, hoping like hell that she could at least answer me that.

I'd never had someone to talk to about that mission. With no counselor in the Maquis, and no time to process the experience healthily before being tossed into the next battle, I forced myself to bury it instead. As soon as I was recovered from my injuries, I knocked back as much liquor as I could hold and fucked Chakotay senseless, just to feel like I was in control again. But from then on, every Cardassian I killed looked just like that officer who had tortured me; I could see no one else anymore.

Then came _Voyager_ , where I was the only counselor. Medical interventions could only do so much for my condition. I needed help. But maybe, if Kathryn had found a way to weed that horror out of her soul, there was hope for me yet.

"No," she answered honestly, "but it does get easier to not blame yourself, in time."

We sat in silence for a long while after that, sipping our coffee as we waited for memories to fade and tears to dry so we could step back into our official roles once more.

"I think we need to have a talk with Minister Elentia," I finally said.

"Oh?" the captain replied. "Why is that?"

"She's hiding something important, and I suspect it could play big in our rescue mission to retrieve Commander Chakotay and Crewman Ghemor." I paused, searching far into her blue eyes as I allowed my officer's mask to slip one last time. "We are going after them, right?"

She sighed with the weight of both a captain and a lover, and stared out the viewport behind her. "I keep asking myself if my personal relationship with Commander Chakotay is having any bearing on my desire to mount a rescue operation. How can I order this crew to go after a ship that even the Borg refuse to attack, for just two lives?"

I watched her closely, quietly, and waited for her to answer her own question. The moment Harry told me what had happened on the bridge when Annorax attacked, I knew that this would torment her. I also knew that she needed to discover the answer for herself.

"It wouldn't be the first time I took this ship on a suicide mission for a rescue," she quipped solemnly. "And, I know I'd do it for any member of my crew. It's not about him, not really."

"Then, why do you hesitate?" I asked softly.

"I'm not sure I have the right to make this decision. No matter what, all anyone is going to see when reports are written and records are logged for posterity is that I risked a hundred and fifty lives to save the man I—" she swallowed hard and drew in a sharp breath "—the man I love. My authority will never be taken seriously after that."

The burden of command. As chaotic as things were in the Maquis, at least we had recognized the humanity of our leaders. We never expected them to be above reproach in the way that Starfleet did. But, that was a different reality, a different way of life. It demanded different things of us.

For three years, _Voyager's_ isolation in the Delta Quadrant had made us forget what it was like to live under the oversight of the Federation. Sure, we were a Starfleet crew. We lived in the hierarchy, and we operated under the same principles. Most of us had taken the uniform eventually, though Janeway only required it of officers and department heads. But, we had also bent Federation protocol around our reality, so that it didn't feel quite so stifling.

We had yearned so deeply for any sort of contact with home, that we had never considered the ramifications of having the brass peering over our shoulders and breathing down our necks again. I certainly hadn't spared it a thought. Then again, I was still a criminal to them. But, as the ship's captain—

"What if you didn't have to make this decision?" I asked, the spark of an idea flaring in my mind and lighting up the darkness in my soul. She was expected to be a commanding officer in every circumstance, but I had no such standard. It might as well do someone some good.

She turned back to face me with creases in her brow. "Explain, Commander."

My lips quirked up mischievously. "No, 'Commander,' Captain. Not this time. Just, 'Eelo.' I'm not like you, not in Starfleet's eyes. To them, I'm still a traitor. So, what if you weren't taking _Voyager_ into Krenim space to just to rescue Chakotay and Iliana? What if you were taking Voyager after the _Equinox_ because it had been commandeered for an unsanctioned rescue mission… by me?"

Her eyes went wide. "Absolutely not. I can't possibly ask you to do that, Talia. Not after all of the work you've done to clean up your record. I was going to recommend you for recommissioning."

"Let's be honest, Kathryn," I said cynically. "They're never going to forgive my betrayal."

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting restlessly in her lap. "You don't know that."

I pursed my lips. "Do you know how many times we've saved each other, Chakotay and I?"

Kathryn looked up at me, and said nothing.

"Dozens. I couldn't even say what the number is. From our very first mission to the day I flew the _Valjean_ into that Kazon warship, we never left each other behind."

I paused for a beat, then added, "I broke that code when he was captured by Seska and the Kazon. I told you to leave him behind. Then, I left you both behind on New Earth. I don't want to leave him behind again."

"Neither do I," she admitted.

"There's something else, though. I'm afraid that if we do leave him, we're all going to die out here."

"How do you figure?"

"Ever since news of the massacre and the war came in from the Alpha Quadrant, this crew hasn't been the same. It reopened a lot of old wounds, and I can't fix it this time, not like before. If you leave Chakotay behind, they'll never forgive you. It will tear us apart. We need to channel their anger into something useful, something bigger than this pain they're stuck in. We found unity in hardship before. I think this is how we find it again. We save Chakotay and Iliana, and we will save ourselves."

Janeway stared at me in disbelief. "Talia, we can do that here, together, as one crew. There's no need for mutiny. Do you realize what the consequences would be if we were to do what you're suggesting?"

"Fully," I assured her. "But, at least those consequences will be only be exacted upon those of us who have long anticipated death or imprisonment, who have little or nothing left to go home to. One ship cannot do this alone. We will need to ally ourselves with groups that are already resisting the Imperium if we are to have any hope of success. We will shred the Prime Directive, and compromise our relationship with the Turei."

The captain looked away for a long time, silently weighing my words. Finally, her eyes met mine, and she sighed heavily. "Let's get through the trial first. The last thing I want is for Ransom's crew to suffer for this."

"Agreed. I'll need time to make plans anyway."

"I'm going to discuss the matter with Tuvok. Maybe, hopefully, he'll have a better solution. If nothing else, he can provide us with some insight _if_ I choose to okay this mission."

When I walked out a few minutes later, Janeway still did not look fully convinced. I, however, couldn't help but feel a strange sense of strength and calm that I hadn't known in years.

* * *

Having been given the entire day off, I went straight from Captain Janeway's ready room down to Minister Elentia's quarters on deck two— Harry's old quarters. She had adapted quickly to our sleep schedule, so I knew she would be awake. When I rang the chime, she beckoned me inside right away.

"Talia!" she greeted warmly with a deep bow. "It pleases me to see you looking better. I trust you have rested?"

I smiled and bowed in return. "Yes, I have, thank you. May I speak with you for a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course. Let us sit," she replied, guiding me over to the couch. After I sat down, she slid into the chair across from me. "What would you like to discuss?"

"Rebellion," I said simply.

She recoiled slightly, then forced herself to resume a casual demeanor. "What of it?"

"Since we met, I've made myself a student of your culture. You know this. What you may not realize is that I have also been a student of you. I have noticed things over the past weeks; I know you're keeping things from us. I think there are also things you're keeping from your government."

She opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a hand, stopping her.

"I haven't told anyone. In fact, I was rather hoping you might be able to help me form my own little rebellion."

She tilted her head to the right and held out her right hand, palm faced upwards— a sign of intrigue, and a request for further explanation.

"I want to take my old Maquis crew after Annorax, and get our people back. And, I want to steal the _Equinox_ to do it. Now, I know there's been a growing amount of unrest among the Free Zahl with the youth pushing harder and harder to support the rebel forces on Azahla. And, I think you have contacts there, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. I also think that you have some secret friends in that nebula, friends you laughed off as myths. I can give you the opportunity you've been waiting for. If you help me get my people back, I will help you destroy the _Solassat_ and set your people free."

"What of Captain Janeway?" she asked cautiously. "I thought she and your commander—"

"Yes, but her hands are tied by Starfleet protocol. Mine, however, are not."

She bowed slightly, understanding better than most the stifling binds of politics and leadership.

"So?" I prodded. "Are you interested?"

I waited for her to bow, as was proper Zahl decorum. Instead, she flashed me an irreverently wicked grin. "I am _very_ interested."


	8. When Demons Dance

**When Demons Dance**

* * *

Two days after my conversation with Captain Janeway, the USS _Bonshune_ returned with letters from home. For some, it helped to bring healing; for others, it fueled their anger, grief, and resentment.

Starfleet had been generous with their data cap, and those of us from Federation worlds got several letters each. Most of the Maquis crew, however, were lucky to get one or two letters. Some got none at all, because there was no one left alive to write to them.

As for me, I got letters from my family and— much to my surprise— from Jadzia Dax, an old girlfriend at the academy. Most surprising of all was the sight of Tom's father's name on my list of correspondents.

 _Admiral Owen Paris_

As to why he had written to me, I would have to wait to find out. No sooner had I downloaded my letters when I received a summons to Tuvok's office, where I was informed of the most surprising development of all.

Iliana had letters.

I could hardly believe that Starfleet had allowed the communications through until I saw where they had come from— _Deep Space Nine_. Still, they were marked for security review prior to delivery, and Tuvok wanted my input.

One letter had come from the station's Bajoran attaché herself, Major Kira Nerys, to inform Iliana of her father's death. Major Kira also conveyed what she could about her interactions with Tekeny Ghemor, who had apparently been an anti-command insurgent.

The other letter was not nearly so heavy, but far more interesting. It was from an exiled Kardasi shop owner on the station, named Elim Garak, who was trying to feel out Iliana's loyalties. On the positive side, it seemed clear to me that his own loyalty was to a Cardassia free from the oppression of military regimes— which, for the moment, aligned with Federation interests.

I recommended delivery of the letters to Iliana upon her return to _Voyager_.

On the heels of that, Captain Janeway called us both into her ready room to deliver some unsettling— yet not entirely surprising— news. Starfleet Command was unhappy with the trust she had placed in Chakotay, myself, Tom, and the rest of the former Maquis who now served under her. Although they acknowledged the necessity of maintaining her current arrangement, they also made it clear that she was not to offer us any further promotions, nor should she expect our reinstatement into Starfleet. Upon our return to Earth, we would all face formal trials. If we were released at that time, Starfleet might allow us to enlist.

 _Enlist_.

Never to be acknowledged as officers. Never entrusted with authority. It was a slap in the face for us all, Janeway included.

It only strengthened my resolve in our mission.

Most of all, though, they were upset by the privileges that Janeway had granted to Iliana and Annika. They wanted both barred from vital functions and areas of the ship, and fully interrogated. Even the captain, who was herself a Starfleet brat, was surprised by their reaction to all of our attempts at rehabilitation.

"They're at war," I said, though I was admittedly a little surprised as far as Annika was concerned. "They went from fighting the Cardassians, to negotiating an uneasy appeasement, to having their own people throw the price of that appeasement in their face, and right back into another war with someone even more powerful. That can bring out the worst in anyone. Besides," I added, "look at the first name on the list of signatories."

 _Admiral Alynna Nechayev._

Janeway sighed. "I never particularly liked Nechayev's style of leadership, nor do I agree with her decisions, but—" She pursed her lips, trying to be as delicate with her words as she could be. "—there are reasons why, Commander. Admiralty— it changes a person. It's not always so straightforward as commanding a mission, a department, or even a starship."

I snorted. "Like I don't know that?" But then her eyes met mine, and I took a half-step back from her desk. I really needed to get a handle on my outbursts.

I knew full well how many different ways people handled leadership, conflict, and trauma in the military. Not everyone took it like my father. Some took it like Admiral Paris, pushing the darkness aside by planning every minutiae of his only son's future. Some took it like Nechayev, embracing the darkness, harnessing it, and channeling it into the unrelenting defense of Federation life. Some took it like Admiral Janeway, the captain's father, who did everything he could to nurture his prodigious daughter yet still protect her from the darkness she knew nothing of.

They all had their strengths and their weaknesses, the same as anyone.

Unlike my father, many command officers balked at counseling, resisting even in their greatest hour of need. I knew what that did to the mind. I had no right to judge them, even if they had unfairly judged me.

So, with an apologetic look, I fell silent. I trusted Captain Janeway. For the time being, that was enough.

* * *

Finally able to return to my quarters and settle down to my own mail, I curled up in my favorite chair and began to read. Of course, my curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the admiral's letter first.

 _To: Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia, USS_ Voyager  
 _From: Admiral Owen Paris_

 _Talia,_

 _I hope this communication finds you well. I was quite pleased to receive word of_ Voyager's _survival, and of your successful integration into the crew. I always hoped you would find your way back to Starfleet someday, and that you would take my advice on pursuing opportunities for command. If you can earn the trust and admiration of Kathryn Janeway, then you have mine, as well. Do not worry too much about the rest of the admiralty; when the war is over, I believe they will change their tune._

I smiled. If a stickler like Paris could see the good we had done here, and offer me the benefit of the doubt, perhaps there was hope yet.

Although, considering the updates we had received on the progress of the Dominion War, it occurred to me that Owen's comment may have simply been a practical observation; after suffering so much loss, Starfleet would hardly be in a position to turn away qualified officers.

 _Allow me to offer my congratulations on your marriage to Lieutenant Kim— although you know as well as I do that Julia and I had hoped you would join our family in an official capacity. Regardless, Lieutenant Kim appears to be an upstanding officer, and I wish you both the best of happiness. Kathleen and Moira, also, wish to convey their congratulations. Moira specifically asked me to inform you that she expects nieces and nephews soon._

At that, I laughed aloud. Of course she said that.

 _I do not doubt that you already know the true reason why I have written. Still, I must ask for your opinion in the matter. I have read the assessments that Captain Janeway entered into Tom's service record, and it has restored a great deal of hope in his mother and me. However, you have known him better than anyone else. Do you believe that he has truly changed?_

I stared at the question for several seconds before snorting and shaking my head. That man had the strangest way of showing affection for his son. It was affection, of course. Tom could never really believe it, but his father did love him in his own way. It wasn't an easy relationship— nor a particularly healthy one— but the man did try.

I smiled to myself as I began to formulate my response. Of course Tom had changed. Yet, in a way, he was the same Tom I had always known. Every day, he was living more and more into the man that had lived within him. After all this time, he was finally letting go of the various identities he tried to force onto himself, and living out his true identity. He was happy, self-actualized, and at peace.

He was free.

 _'Now_ ,' I thought as a frown crossed my face, ' _how in the hell do I put that into words the admiral will understand?'_

* * *

Captain Janeway, Tuvok, and I had decided to keep our mission as quiet as possible. Not even Elentia knew the whole of it. I let Tom and B'Elanna in, so they could help me with planning and recruiting. Other than that, I kept mum.

I did not tell Harry. I should have, but every time I tried to bring it up, I choked on the words. Still, within a week, he found out anyway.

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" he asked one night.

I turned away from him, padding to our little viewport to look at the stars beyond. "I didn't know how."

"Really? How about, 'Welcome home, dear! By the way, I'm planning a Maquis mutiny against the captain, except it's not really a mutiny because she knows about it, but it will definitely get me thrown in prison by Starfleet when we get home— that is, provided I don't die trying to break into an impenetrable fucking timeship!'"

"That's a bit dramatic."

"Why? Why are you doing this, Talia?"

"To rescue Chakotay and Iliana."

"There's more to it than that."

I balled my hands into fists. "To protect you, Captain Janeway, and the other _real_ Starfleet officers here from suffering the consequences of violating the Prime Directive."

"You couldn't just tell me that?"

I said nothing.

"How long will you keep holding yourself apart from everyone who loves you, so you can throw yourself in front of someone else's phaser? What are you trying to prove to yourself?"

What could I say? What did he want from me? Did he really think that marrying me would change my priorities so much?

"Has it ever occurred to you," he asked, "that your odds are better when the ones you love are with you, supporting you on every side?"

Then, it hit me. He wanted to go.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I turned towards him, and I shook my head. "No. _No._ You can't come. I won't allow it. I can't."

"Why? Tell me why."

I wrapped my arms around my waist, hugging myself tightly. "You don't know. You don't understand."

Harry stepped closer and cupped both sides of my face. "What don't I understand, Talia? Please, talk to me."

"It will ruin your career."

"I don't care."

"It will destroy you."

"Talia, I don't care about my position when it comes to you! What do I have to do to make you understand? If standing by your side means being discharged from Starfleet, then so be it."

I shook my head. "That's not what I mean."

"Then what?" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "Tell me what it is that you're so afraid of!"

" _Afraid_?" I spat. "You think I'm afraid? I fear _nothing_."

"Bullshit!"

"Fuck you."

"Goddamnit, Talia! Why are you doing this, then? I'm not ignorant. I think I know pretty well by now how you operate. You're hardening yourself. You're pushing me away." He paused for a moment before he said, "It's because you think I'm going to die, isn't it? Like when we fought 8472. You're trying to save yourself the pain."

I shook my head.

"Then what? Don't I at least deserve to know why you suddenly want to keep me at a distance, as if you—" His words stumbled to a halt as a look of epiphany, and then dread, crossed his features. " _Wo de tian na_. You want to get yourself killed out there, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I may be messed up, but I promise you, I am not suicidal."

"I don't believe you."

I knew he would never let it go, not until I had told him the truth. So, I took a breath to steady myself, and pivoted once again to gaze at the stars through our viewport.

"You don't know what it does to you," I murmured, "to kill a person. It takes away a piece of you, and you never get it back. And in war, you have to do it over and over again. It shreds your soul to pieces until you can't feel anything anymore. When it's over, you try to go back to your life before, but you never really do. You're just walking around with this big hole inside of you where your soul used to be, and all that's left there are ghosts— ghosts of the people you killed, ghosts of the comrades you watched die. They never go away, and the war never ends."

I heard his quiet footfalls as he approached me from behind, and soon he had wrapped me up in his embrace. Still, he remained silent.

So, I admitted my ugliest truth. "I'll never be whole again. I will spend the rest of my life as a soldier on those battlefields in my mind, slaughtering Cardassia's sons for crimes they did not commit against me. This is the price of my sins, and I have accepted that."

I turned in his arms to face him. Tears tracked wet paths down his face, glistening in the light of the stars outside. "I won't let you lose your innocence, Harry. Not like this. You're too good, too perfect. This universe needs people who aren't broken, and I won't be the one to break you." Curling my fingers into the folds of his uniform jacket, I begged, " _Please_ , Harry. Please don't follow me. I'd never forgive myself if you lost your soul out there."

Harry said nothing. Perhaps there were no words left within him to be said. Instead, he did the only thing he could think to do to show his commitment to me, and he claimed my lips with his. His grip around me was sure, even as his tears fell on my face. Piece by piece, we shed our uniforms until there was nothing left but us together, the way we promised we would be until death. With every touch, he poured his ineffably pure love into me until it seeped from my pores.

After, when Harry finally caught his breath, and the lids of his dark eyes fluttered open again to meet mine, they reflected the very same promise that he had just spoken into my body with his own. He would willingly drain every last drop from his soul for me, because we were in this together.

He wasn't about to leave me behind— not for anything.

* * *

For three months, by Standard time, the investigations and trial for the _Equinox_ crew carried on. After the first two weeks, the Turei allowed Captain Janeway to send teams over to the _Equinox_ to study it for ourselves.

Their crew had made quite a few interesting modifications to the small science vessel during their time in the Delta Quadrant. Realizing the impossibility of their survival on a ship built for short term science missions, and having lost half of his crew, Ransom had made the call early on to set aside Starfleet policy in situations that could make or break their success. They had traded Federation technology, and gained a great deal of alien technology in return.

The piece that interested me the most was their cloak. It had never integrated well into Federation technology, and was unstable. Beyond that, it had been badly damaged in a Turei attack just days before we found them in the nebula. Still, if anyone could get it working, it would be B'Elanna Torres, and she was in with me all the way.

As the trial carried on, Elentia had been quietly pulling on her many strings in order to acquire resources and allies. When the topic of my need for medical staff came up, owing to the _Equinox_ being older than Voyager and not equipped with an EMH, I explained to her in no uncertain terms that I would not ask Dr. Kes to come with us. I refused to disrupt young Alixia's life like that. Thankfully, Elentia had another idea.

A mobile holographic emitter.

It was a piece of Zahl technology that had the ability to store and project a complex holographic image. Although it was normally used to project non-sentient holographic objects of many varieties— games, design models, or even temporary housing— her contact was able to modify it specifically for Dr. Schmullis' holomatrix. He would be as free to roam as any of the rest of us.

Not that he would find out about it until after I had stolen his program and taken him with me to the _Equinox_.

Another significant arrangement Elentia had made actually came at the request of Captain Janeway— a counselor who could help Dr. Schmullis treat my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

It was a difficult request to fill, as psychology varied dramatically from one species to the next. Mental health is so very delicate, and counseling can wound just as much as it can heal if it is not done carefully and knowledgeably. I myself had been intentional to only use the most universally applicable techniques with Neelix and Kes for months after their arrival, until I felt confident enough in my studies of their cultures and my observations of them to pursue more specific methods.

Elentia, however, knew just the man for the job— her brother, Sinta. His specialty was military and refugee psychology, but it was mostly his unique gift that made him a compatible therapist for me. He was a genetic rarity among the Zahl— a low-level telepath. Occurring in only one out of a thousand children born to the species, they almost always gravitated towards help-oriented careers that allowed them to use their empathic abilities to the benefit of their people.

Due to his unique ability, Sinta made rapid progress with me. Soon, the night terrors receded. In his studies of my cultural background, he became aware of an old Bajoran practice in which one would cut off her hair and burn it in order to rid herself of the weight of her past experiences. He encouraged me to try it.

It had been months since I had done anything remotely Bajoran beyond uttering the occasional obscenity. I hadn't even worn my earring as of late. Yet, the idea had appeal.

Sinta was quite right. After taking my freshly-sharpened knife to my waist-length hair and slicing it off above the shoulder, I felt inexplicably freed from the horrors of Korma outpost. With each lock of copper that floated to the floor, I released my assailant, my victims, my mistakes, my anger with Starfleet, my muddled feelings around Iliana and Marnah, and the guilt that had choked me out for so long.

Then, I burned them into nothing.

By the time the trial ended, when the _Equinox_ and her crew were released back into Starfleet custody, I felt more like my old, pre-Maquis self than I had in years. As the final pieces of the plan came together, and my crew— Chakotay's crew— quietly prepared to leave _Voyager_ , I realized that I no longer felt like I was embarking on a Maquis rebel mission. I wasn't a traitor this time, or an aimless runaway, or the Eelo _tahl'ral_. I was calling my own shots, guided by the fire in my soul. I was serving my _Voyager_ family, not out of duty, but out of love.

If I could manage to hold onto this strength in the weeks and months ahead, I would be a whole new person when _Voyager_ finally passed through Krenim space to face the rest of our course back to Earth.

And Starfleet Command wouldn't know what hit them.


	9. Freedom

**Freedom**

* * *

"Please state the nature of the—" Schmullis' programmed greeting stopped abruptly when he realized that he was not in his sickbay, nor anywhere on _Voyager_.

I smiled at him as I dropped my hand from the mobile emitter on his upper arm. "Welcome to the _USS Equinox_ , Doctor."

His eyes scanned the room, peering out from underneath a brow crinkled with confusion. "I was under the impression that there were no holographic projectors on the _Equinox_. How exactly am I here?"

"I downloaded your program into a piece of Zahl technology called a mobile holographic emitter, and then I brought you here."

"A mobile holographic emitter?"

I nodded. "Yes, it's that device on your upper right arm."

He tilted his head to look down at the small, triangular device, bringing his left hand up to examine it. "Fascinating. Shall I report our successful test to the captain?"

"We can't."

He turned again towards me. "Why not?"

"Because we have commandeered the _Equinox_ and are currently on our way to meet with some allies outside of B'omar space who will help us rescue Chakotay and Iliana," I said. "We moved out of communications range an hour ago."

"You _what?!_ "

"You heard me."

Schmullis spluttered for a few seconds before finally spitting out an angry, "Who is 'we'?"

I tilted my head to the side. "The Maquis crew, plus a few Starfleet volunteers and a couple of Ransom's ops people who know the ship's quirks and were sympathetic to our cause."

Schmullis began to pace. "And, may I presume you were the mastermind behind this little mutiny?"

"More or less," I answered with a shrug.

"How could you? After all Captain Janeway has done for you, all that we have been through together as one crew—"

Stepping into the path he was burning into my ready room floor, I stopped his pacing and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Captain Janeway was the first person I shared this idea with. She's the one who approved it. But, as far as official records are concerned, she knew nothing, nor did any of the Starfleet crew. They will not be held responsible for what we will have to do here, do you understand?"

Instantly, he relaxed underneath my touch. "Yes, Commander, I think I do."

I smiled. "Good. Now, you need to be aware that only the senior-most staff on both ships have been briefed on the true nature of the mission; most believe it really is a mutiny. Here, that staff includes myself, Tom Paris, B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim, Michael Ayala, Annika Hansen, and now you."

"Annika knows?"

"Yes. Evidently, two certain somebodys forgot to take into account her Borg-enhanced hearing. Thankfully, when she confronted them, they were smart enough to explain the whole thing, and she volunteered to help."

He smiled proudly. "And on _Voyager_?"

"The captain, Tuvok, Joe Carey, Megan Delaney, Joshua Monroe, Samantha Wildman, and Kes."

"Two science officers?"

"Megan has a level three operations certification, and has been quite successfully moving through Chakotay's tactical training program. I suspect she'll make lieutenant after this."

"I see."

"As to another matter of concern. The last thing I want is to give Starfleet a reason to decompile your program. As soon as you get to your office following this meeting, you will compose an encrypted log bemoaning my actions and laying out your plan to play along with our mutiny in order to gain my trust and familiarize yourself with ship's systems. In a few days, Harry will provide you with the information you need to send secret communications to _Voyager_ , and you will become their informant on board the _Equinox_."

"So, you're going to recapture our missing crew, Captain Janeway is going to apprehend you and your Maquis criminals, and I will look like the hero," he summarized uncomfortably.

"Precisely."

"You'll lose your rank and position on _Voyager_."

"Actually, no. Captain Janeway will put us all on report, but then issue a formal stay of charges. Officially, she will do this because she needs us. However, there is a bigger reason."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? And that is?"

"To begin rebuilding the trust of the former Maquis in her command. As you know, news from home has been eroding that trust over the last few months. They need to be reminded that even though she has to answer to the brass, her first loyalty is to her own crew— her whole crew— otherwise their resentment will only continue to fester, and tear us apart."

"What about your reputation with Starfleet?"

"It doesn't matter to me nearly as much as Chakotay and Iliana do. I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I volunteered for this. I just want our people back safe, and our crew unified once again. Will you help me do that?"

He gave a firm nod. "Aye, Commander."

I smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you, Schmullis. I knew I could count on you."

* * *

My eyes were already beginning to glaze over from reading too many reports when Harry came to my ready room after finishing his bridge watch shift and presented me with a PADD.

"Great," I deadpanned, "another report. So this is what first officers are for— to sort through all of this deskwork for me."

Harry chuckled. "It's nothing immediately important. Why don't you set it aside for tonight, review it in the morning?" He leaned over my desk and lowered his face to mine, lifting my chin up with his hand. "Have dinner with me," he whispered against my mouth before capturing it with a kiss.

An involuntary moan sounded at the back of my throat.

When he reluctantly pulled away, he panted, "Or, we can stay right here and skip straight to dessert."

I laughed breathlessly and shook my head. "That would be inappropriate."

"Oh, come on, Captain," he teased, "don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"First of all," I said, deactivating the computer console and coming to my feet, "I'm not a captain. That is a Federation rank, and we don't use it in the Maquis. If you use a title to reference me, I will accept either Commander or _Fenyen_."

He frowned. " _Fenyen_?"

"Colonel. It's how Bajoran cell leaders were referred to."

"Huh. Never knew that."

"Second," I continued as I stepped around my desk and slipped my hands around Harry's hips, "of course I've thought about it. But, I doubt Captain Ransom would want any shenanigans on his desk."

He tugged at the waistband of my pants. "At the moment, it's your desk."

"Well, maybe I don't want any shenanigans on my desk, either."

"What if we don't touch the desk?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "That's not very Starfleet of you, Lieutenant."

"The way I see it, this is a Maquis ship now, _Fenyen_."

I shook my head. "You've really got to stop using Tom as your informant on the Maquis. He was with us for less than two weeks back when we were still forming, then he disappeared for months. When he resurfaced, he had his own ship, so we just hired him to run weapons and supplies."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. He's full of shit. He would have you think being Maquis was all fighting in bars and quickies on rebuilt helm consoles. But Chakotay ran a tight ship, and so do I. We're freedom fighters, not impulsive adolescents."

Harry dipped his head and sighed. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry. Tom made it sound so romantic and adventurous, and I guess I just got caught up in it."

"Hey," I said, reaching for his face. "Don't apologize. At least half of our recruits thought the exact same thing, Tom included." I gave him a teasing smile. "You kids are all alike. Bursting in, guns blazing, hoping to sweep some pretty woman off her feet."

He chuckled, a deep and rumbling sound, sending vibrations reverberating through my chest. "Aye. You caught me. I should have known better. I'll bet that never worked on you. You're far too sophisticated to fall for that."

I breathed a small laugh. "Right. Now you're just flattering me."

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No. No flattery. I know better than that. You will accept nothing less than my entire being, every day, for the rest of my life."

The right side of my mouth lifted in a wry smile. "You're damn right about that. I have a very noble legacy to protect."

At that moment, all of the jocularity in his eyes faded, leaving behind a look of pure, hopeful devotion. "And I can't wait to add to that legacy with you, _ja'Talia_."

My breath hitched as his thumb grazed over my lips in a feather-light touch, and the full meaning of his words settled into me. After all of the darkness he had seen pouring forth from within my soul these past months, he still believed in my goodness. He still wanted to father my children.

Seeing the naked emotion that was surely on my face, he brushed a tender kiss against my lips before reassuring me, "Only when you're ready."

Lifting onto my toes, I took his lips with a bruising kiss. Never in my life had I wanted anything more than to see this sweet man be a father. In that exact moment, I knew with absolute clarity that it was time.

"I'm ready," I whispered.

Joy and shock warred for domination over his features, leaving him with wide eyes and a goofy, gaping grin. "Really?"

I nodded, my cheeks nearly splitting open with my smile. "Yes, really. But, we can't do anything about it just yet. We'll both have to undergo genetic modification fertility treatments in order to get pregnant." I cupped my hands around his jaw. "When this mission is over, we'll make an appointment with Dr. Kes. And then, we'll have a baby."

The smile he gave me when I spoke that promise was as radiant as the one he gave me the day I agreed to marry him, but this time it was mingled with tears. "Then we'll have a baby," he repeated reverently, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you so much, _ja'Talia_."

"And I love you, Harry."

* * *

"You are happy today," Elentia observed the next morning as we sat on the couch in my ready room.

"Have I really been so gloomy lately that one good mood is notable?" I asked, only halfway joking.

She glanced downward briefly, then returned her eyes to mine. "It's not that. You have been quite at peace ever since your meetings with my brother. I simply mean that you seem especially joyful today. You seem like a woman newly in love."

I laughed nervously, unable to stop the warm rush of blood to my cheeks. Was I that obvious? "I apologize. I'll try to remain more professional."

Elentia reached of and grasped my hand, squeezing it with hers. "Do not apologize for love, Talia. It pleases me to see you happy." She paused, hesitating before speaking her next words aloud. "I hope you will soon see me so happy."

"Why do you say that?"

With a sigh, she withdrew her hand back into her own lap. "Now that we are here, I must inform you. But, for you to understand, you must first understand something about the Krenim."

"I'm listening."

"Since before the days of the Vaadwaur, the Krenim have recognized a royal line of succession. Even through times of subjugation to the Vaadwaur, or to the Turei, they have carefully protected that royal line. Because the Krenim believe that politics is a woman's job, the royal line is traced through the women. If a queen's husband gives her no daughters to bear, the inheritance passes to her blood-sister, or to her oldest blood-niece.

"When the Turei got their filthy fingernails into the Krenim government, they attempted to convince the queen to marry her only daughter to a young officer who had served well in their war against the Vaadwaur. He was a dear friend to several prominent Turei officers, and he supported maintaining a close political relationship with the Turei. The queen was wise, however, and she refused, so the officer was married to the eldest daughter of the queen's brother instead. Within a few years, they assassinated the princess. Soon after that, the crown passed to the queen's niece, from whose line came Queen Nilat Kyana.

"What few realized, however, is that before the princess died, she bore a daughter. The queen had the child hidden until she came of age, but when the queen died, and the inheritance passed to her niece, the child's existence was exposed to the new queen, who sought to have the girl killed. She hunted the rightful heir all her life, but never found her, and the princess survived."

My eyes were wide. "Has her line continued all these years?"

Elentia bowed. "The true heir's line survives."

"So Queen Nilat Kyana does not have the right to rule. We have a more legitimate ruler to install."

"We have the _only_ legitimate ruler, Commander. Queen Nilat Kyana has been dead for a hundred and fifty years, as have her children."

My mouth gaped open. "But— I don't understand."

"The _Solassat_ is kept outside of space-time by the temporal core, which uses modified chroniton shielding technology to create a massive interdimensional bubble that surrounds the ship. Anything on that ship is shielded from the effects of entropy. They do not age. It means they do not die, but it also means no new life can form or grow."

"So, no children," I concluded.

"No. No children."

"The queen left the _Solassat_ to conceive and raise children?"

She inclined her head. "Yes. She was on the royal homeworld, Kyana Prime, when a people called the Rilnar rebelled against the Imperium. General Annorax turned his weapon against them, meaning to wipe out their entire race. What he did not realize is that they were not acting alone."

"The Zahl?"

"And the Srivani."

"Who are—"

"The ghost-pirates that the B'omar told your chef about. That is all that remains of the Srivani race now."

"Because of Annorax."

"Because of Annorax," she confirmed. "The Srivani used their advanced stealth technology to infiltrate Kyana Prime. They compromised the planet's defenses. When Annorax activated his weapon against the Rilnar, and erased them from history, he also condemned his own people to an incurable disease that they no longer had the ability to resist without the antibodies that had been introduced to them through their contact with the Rilnar. With the biowarfare defense net down, the queen and her children fell ill, and died."

"And you are aware of the erasure of the Rilnar because—"

"There is a sympathizer on the _Solassat_."

My eyes went wide. "Why does no one know about the death of the royal family?"

"Annorax suppressed all knowledge of that history. He propagated the story that his wife had been with him on the Solassat and was safe— that the children had been with their nanny on Kyana Prime, and not their mother. He leveraged the sympathy and anger of his people, and cast the Srivani as the ones to blame. They were hunted down and exterminated. Those who survived, including the family charged with protecting the true heir, fled to the nebula. As far as most know, they have been extinct for a century."

"And as far as Annorax knows, so has the Kyana line."

"Precisely."

"So, what does this have to do with your happiness, Elentia? Why are you willing to risk everything to go to war against a power that has no hold over you, and whose end will likely invite a Borg incursion into the entire region?"

"Because Nessav Kyana, the true queen of the Krenim Imperium is my lover."

 _Oh_ , was all I could think. I had not seen that coming.

"More than that, she is the only one who can unite the entire region as one against the Borg. If we can restore her inheritance to her, we can put our people's strengths together, and we will resist the Borg."

"But—" I hesitated for a moment before breathing the harsh question on my mind— "what if you still can't defeat the Borg?"

"Then at least we will fall by our own choice, rather than as slaves to Annorax or second-class citizens of the Turei Monarchy. It is better than we fall in the fight for freedom, than to live and die at the feet of others. We have been oppressed enough, our kindness taken advantage of too many times. This is our time. You are a freedom fighter for the Bajoran people, Eelo Talia. Can you not understand that?"

I pursed my lips. Ever since finding out from Q that my mother had not been all I believed her to be, I had tried to distance myself from that part of my identity. But, Elentia was right; it was an immutable part of me. If I had been able to return to the Alpha Quadrant in time to defend against the genocide that the Cardassian and Dominion forces exacted upon the Valo system, I wouldn't have hesitated to join the fight for their freedom.

 _I am of Bajor._

So, when my eyes met once more with Elentia's, two windows into the depth of the empathy that I felt for her, I nodded. "I understand completely, my sister. You will have your happiness, and your people their freedom."

"As will yours," she pledged in return.


	10. Everybody Wants to Rule the World

**Everybody Wants to Rule the World**

* * *

"The cloak is offline!" Harry shouted as weapons-fire pounded against the hull of the _Equinox_.

"Shields!" I barked. "Evasive maneuvers. Mike, target their weapons systems and return fire."

There was a brief pause before Mike said, "Direct hit on their forward phaser banks."

Another volley rattled the ship, only slightly less violent than the first. "Shields down to 84%," Harry said.

"Mike, I want their weapons disabled, _now_!"

"Aye, sir. Firing phasers."

"Commander," Harry said, "another Hirogen ship just appeared on sensors. This one's even more heavily armed."

The next volley nearly threw me out of my command seat.

"Direct hit on our starboard thrusters. Aft shields down to 56%."

Tom swore. "No matter where I go, they track us. They must have figured out some way to scan through the gasses."

"Keep trying, Tom," I said. "Just a little bit longer."

Just then, I heard Mike slap his console. "Gotcha! The first ship's weapons are disabled."

"Excellent work. Target the second ship but hold fire. Harry, see if you can get them to talk. Maybe we can buy some extra time."

"They're responding."

I stood and stepped forward into the center of the bridge. "On screen."

To no one's surprise, the view screen flickered to life on the face of the very same alpha Hirogen who had led the last hunting party we encountered.

"You!" he grunted. "Where is the old man?"

I shrugged. "Let's just say he's occupied elsewhere."

The alpha narrowed his eyes. "If your other vessel is hiding, we will find it and defeat it. The hunt is ours."

"Actually, I was calling to let you know that we have locked our weapons onto your other ship, and we are prepared to disable it. _Voyager_ is nearby as well, also cloaked, and also ready to destroy you. We've made some… modifications since the last time we met. But, I am a patient woman. I will forgive this offense if you call off your attack and leave us immediately."

"An alpha—"

"—never abandons the hunt," I finished for him, rolling my eyes and waving dismissively. "I know. Look, Alpha, like I told you last time, we are scientists. We just want to study this nebula. But, we are willing to use deadly force if necessary to defend ourselves, so I suggest you reconsider."

"I reconsider nothing. The hunt is mine. I will have your ship and crew as my trophies."

I sighed. Why did the guy even bother answering hails?

Behind me, Harry forced a quiet cough. Elentia cleared her throat.

"Well, in that case—" I smiled as I reached for my knife, pulled it from its sheath under my dark brown vest, and flipped it back into position against my wrist. Then, I quirked a challenging eyebrow at the alpha Hirogen. "Come and get us."

I could swear I saw the hint of a pleased smile spark in his eye and pull at his lips ever so subtly just before he cut the com. He liked to hunt challenging prey. Good. He was about to find out just how challenging we could be.

"The second ship is charging weapons," Harry warned.

"Reroute auxiliary power to the shields. What about our friends?"

"Still cloaked," Elentia said, monitoring the situation from the command console in between her seat and mine, "but they are here."

"All stop." Slipping my knife back into its sheath, I returned to my seat and folded one knee over the other. "And now we wait."

The tension on the bridge was palpable as my crew waited for the Hirogen ship to strike, but I simply smiled. Everything was going exactly as planned. After a few breathless seconds—

"Their weapons and shields have been disabled," Harry said, "but I don't know how. There's no sign of weapons-fire."

"The Srivani don't need weapons," Elentia answered. "They use the same tactics as a disease. They defeat the enemy from the inside, out."

"Are they going to kill the Hirogen?"

"If they have to."

A few seconds later, both Hirogen ships exploded.

I willed myself not to look back at the operations station where my husband was working, but I couldn't help picturing the upset look that must surely have been on his face. I tried to warn him. We weren't Starfleet anymore. We were Maquis, and this was war. In war, our success— our survival— required someone else's failure. Sometimes, failure meant death. It was an unpleasant truth, but anyone who wanted to be Maquis had to live with it somehow.

I closed my eyes and crossed myself.

 _Father_.

A prayer for my crew, that they would be protected from physical and psychological harm.

 _Son_.

A prayer for our enemies, who had been killed so that we could carry on with our mission.

 _Holy Spirit._

A prayer for myself, that I would still be able to recognize my own reflection when this was over.

 _Amen._ _Lord, have mercy._

* * *

Commander's Log, stardate 51606.3

After a month of working with the Srivani to repair the ship, refit the cloak for increased stability, and integrate their technology into our systems, we are finally entering Krenim-occupied space. The war is about to begin. But before any shots are fired, we must gather intelligence.

Our first stop will be at the smallest moon orbiting Azahla, where we can connect with the rebel faction to whom the _Solassat's_ sympathizer passes his information. We must work with them to find a way to compensate for the timeship's temporal shielding so we can track its movements. Once we have that, we will shadow Annorax until we know his schedule and patterns better than our own.

Only then can we strike.

* * *

With the _Equinox_ and her accompanying Srivani fleet under cloak the entire way to Azahla, it wasn't a terribly exciting trip. Yet, at the same time, everyone seemed to buzz with a nervous energy— except for Annika Hansen, of course.

Leaving Tom in charge of the bridge, I decided to walk off my own nervous energy and check on my crew's work in the process. Annika was alone in the stellar cartography lab creating a master star chart for the region that combined Borg, Srivani, and Zahl maps and grids.

"Commander," she murmured when I walked in.

"Annika. I'm just checking up on everybody's progress. How is the star chart coming?"

"It is nearly complete. If you would like to wait for a few minutes more, you may have it."

I smiled, leaning back against the console beside her. "Excellent. I'll do that."

We stood together in silence for a long while— she working, and I pondering— until I decided to break the silence.

"I haven't asked you about your regeneration communications in a while. Have you received any more?"

"Yes," Annika answered matter-of-factly, not revealing any emotions on the subject.

I raised my eyebrows. "Well? What happened?"

The tall, lean blonde kept her eyes fixed decidedly on her work. "I have had several interactions with the El-Aurian called Loran. She claims we have been friends since I was a child. She asked who I am now; I informed her that I am Annika Hansen, an individual. She inquired about where I am and who I am with; I told her that I work on a starship, but I did not provide details beyond that. She asked if I remembered anything of my time in Unimatrix Zero; I told her that I did not."

"Unimatrix Zero?"

"Their designation for that particular network. It is a virtual construct shared by several thousand drones, most of whom were connected as children."

"Like you?"

"Yes. They share the virtual reality, but their thoughts are their own there. For the duration of their time inside the maturation chambers, they lead individual lives within their conscious minds."

I pivoted my whole body to face her and rested my hip against the console, fully attuned to the conversation at hand. "And when they emerge from the maturation chambers?"

"They remain connected, but only consciously enter into Unimatrix Zero during regeneration."

"And the Collective is okay with this?"

"It is possible that the Collective is not aware of it, as memories of Unimatrix Zero appear to be suppressed while the drone is active. It is more likely, however, that the Collective is aware, but that it is not worth the resources it would cost to find the Unimatrix Zero network and shut it down, as it does not seem to pose any threat to the continued existence of the Borg. Loran believes that the Borg may have created it on purpose, recognizing the value many cultures place on individuality and emotional connection."

I crossed my arms and pondered the information quietly for several moments. As I thought back over it, trying to make sense of it in my mind, another question floated to the surface. "You said most arrive in Unimatrix Zero as children. Are there some who come as adults?"

"Yes."

"But only a few?"

"Correct."

"So not everyone who is assimilated is connected to this network?"

"No."

"Do you know why?"

A muscle in her cheek twitched. "No."

Something about this point was upsetting to Annika, but I had no way to know why unless I continued to press her for answers. Should I let it go for now? Go back to the mission at hand? I was itching to get under the skin of this issue, and her reaction to it, but would it detract from our focus on the rebellion?

Probably.

I sighed and set it aside. "Can I ask you something else?"

Completing her work on the star chart, she placed an empty PADD on the sync panel and began to transfer the data. Then, she pivoted towards me and gave a slight nod.

"Why did you volunteer for this mission?"

"The Maquis lack science personnel. I knew that I would be an asset to your crew."

I quirked my lips to the side. "Yes, and you have been a great help. But, do you have any deeper motives driving your decision?"

She tilted her head slightly, studying my face. "You are concerned that I might have ulterior motives. Do you believe that I agreed to aid the rebellion in order to eliminate the threat that has thus far prevented the Borg from assimilating this region?"

I shrugged. "The thought did cross my mind."

"It occurred to me, as well. However, that is not the reason why I decided to join the mission." She paused for a beat, took a sharp breath, then continued. "I was intrigued when Lieutenant Paris and Chief Torres explained the situation to me. There is no deception in the Collective; I do not understand it. I had been under the impression that it was a weakness of individuality, and that was why the Borg eliminated it as part of its quest for perfection.

"Yet, this plan was not truly meant to be divisive; it merely encourages a naturally-occurring division, allowing it to play out in a controlled manner for a time in order to provide emotional catharsis and, in the end, enable a greater unity. If it succeeds, that means the Borg are at least partially incorrect, and perhaps the Collective is not doing the favor it thinks it is by assimilating individuals into itself."

Just then, the console chirped out a notification, letting us know the syncing was complete. Annika picked up the PADD and handed it to me. "Will there be anything else, Commander?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No, that's all. Thank you." With that, I turned towards the door and continued on my walk through the ship.

* * *

Ten days after leaving the nebula, we arrived at Azahla. Tom set us into orbit around the smallest moon. The Srivani had provided us with a few bio-cloaking devices so that our away team could avoid detection while we were on the surface. Leaving Tom in command of the _Equinox_ , Mike, Elentia, and I made our way to the transporter room together.

Annika met us there.

I was under no illusions that her loyalties had shifted completely away from the Borg in favor of us; I knew full well that the anxieties she had demonstrated about being assimilated so many weeks before had been the resurfacing of the childhood trauma she experienced when she and her parents were assimilated, and did not reflect her true beliefs about the Borg.

However, she was at least beginning to honestly question the Collective's logic and ethics, and I wanted to give her every opportunity to explore that. I had no desire to shield her from any shade of humanity— the noble, the evil, or the nuanced spectrum in between.

When the war was over, she would have an opening to rejoin the Collective if she was willing to wait for them, and I wanted her to have every reason to trust that I had no intentions of deceiving or manipulating her. If she chose to return to the Borg, it would not be because she had been burned by humanity.

Beyond that, having an ex-drone at my back offered a great deal of tactical advantage. Terran she may have been, but her cybernetic implants had grown into and with her musculoskeletal structure, making it superior even to my hardy Bajoran physiology. She also had significantly enhanced mental, neurological, and visual capabilities. She would be aware of things I was not, could remember things I could not, and had the ability to see things with her ocular implant that no one else could see. In fact, Dr. Schmullis had successfully modified her implant to see past Srivani bio-cloaking technology.

If the Krenim were hiding, she would find them for us.

No Krenim shadows lurked in the remote caves through which we trekked after we transported to the surface and met with the Srivani intelligence team. We were the only ghosts on the moon that night. Once we reached the rendezvous point, Elentia and I deactivated our bio-cloaks and waited for her contact to arrive.

A few minutes later, a buzz sounded above our heads as several dim, yellow-tinged lights flickered to life, illuminating the cavern from the places where they had been conspicuously built into the rock walls. As we removed the Srivani nightvision enhancers from our eyes, a middle-aged Zahl man with tawny skin and amber eyes just like Elentia's emerged from the shadows and stepped into the light.

When his eyes fell on her, he smiled with incandescent joy. "Tia, my precious child. Welcome home."

* * *

The reunion between father and daughter was sweet, but short. After Elentia had introduced her father— Betien— to me, and I had introduced my de-cloaking away team to him, he escorted us to an even larger cavern filled with an eclectic mix of technology that had been smuggled in and patched together to serve the rebellion's purposes. There, we met with several other rebel leaders, seated around a large conference table where he invited us to sit.

"Tia and her brother were chosen to be taken to the Free Zahl," Betien said once we had all settled into our seats. "The Monarchy—" he paused at the word to turn and spit in the dirt, as did his fellow Zahl rebels, "—funds bands of raiders to sneak onto Azahla and reap the best of our children for the benefit of their economy. They promise a better life, better opportunities, freedom, status, full bellies, and safe homes among the Free Zahl Nations. So, we did not resist. As soon as they found out about my son's rare gift of telepathy, their fates were sealed. Tia found me many years later, and she has quietly been using her position to aid our rebellion ever since."

I bowed. "I understand. Thank you for telling me. I am very sorry for all you have suffered, but hopefully we can make it worthwhile. Have you heard from your contact on the _Solassat_?"

Inclining his head, he gestured to the pale-skinned woman on his right. She slid a reader across the table for me as Betien explained. "His name is Colonel Obrist. He is General Annorax's second in command. He has lost his entire family, and has grown weary of his ageless life on the _Solassat_. He agreed to supply us with intelligence on the condition that he is rescued and granted clemency after the rightful heir takes her inheritance in the new Krenim government. We received this transmission two full cycles ago."

Elentia leaned into my ear and whispered, "Approximately three months, your time."

I nodded as I skimmed through the contents, freezing quite suddenly upon his mention of personnel samples Annorax had taken from a starship called _Voyager_.

 _'Commander Chakotay, the ship's first officer, has been of great help to me. He is a highly intelligent individual, and was once an insurgent himself prior to taking his current position on_ Voyager _. His people are a long way from home, but he is eager to help our cause if we are willing to help him get back to them safely. He is confident that his people will come for him in time, but insists that it will not be done rashly. He believes that their rescue may provide a good opportunity for your forces to attack. I concur. If you happen to meet with any of their people, please pass this information along. Their commander is safe, and is being treated well here.'_

I paused in my reading for a moment, closing my eyes and allowing the building moisture to escape from my eyelids. He was alive. He was well. And, he knew exactly what we would do. Sucking in a deep breath, and silently giving thanks to the Prophets, to God, and to whoever else was listening. Then, I continued to read.

 _'All news is not good, however. The other individual taken from_ Voyager _, a woman of a different species called Iliana Ghemor, seems to have come to a different conclusion._

 _'Ghemor is not so simple to read as is Commander Chakotay; I cannot be entirely sure of her motives. Perhaps she believes that her actions are preventing Annorax from eliminating them. Perhaps she simply does it for better treatment. However, Commander Chakotay informs me that his people and her people are enemies, that she was a spy and has begrudgingly integrated into the_ Voyager _crew because she had no alternatives. If he is wary of trusting his own crewman, than we should be, too._

 _'All of that is to say, Iliana Ghemor appears to be working with General Annorax on a temporal incursion that would work in favor of them both. She has not only charmed her way onto his bridge, but she has also charmed her way into his bed. It is my opinion that the safest assumption to make is that she has betrayed her crew on_ Voyager _, and is now only working for her own interests, quite probably at the expense of theirs.'_

With the gentle clack-clack of metal against wood, I set the reader down on the table and let out a slow breath. Shame on me for letting Iliana fool me twice.


	11. Still I Rise

**Still I Rise**

* * *

To ensure that the information remained secure until the time was right, Obrist used a modified Federation Standard code to encrypt a communication that he claimed was vital to the operation. Actually, it was a Maquis code, one that Starfleet had not yet added to their database at the time of _Voyager's_ disappearance; Annorax couldn't possibly have it. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew what it was and I knew Chakotay had encrypted it. I broke it in minutes.

It turned out to be a damn love letter to Janeway.

I knew, of course, that was just another layer of the code. Just as obvious was the fact that he had expected Janeway to come after him herself. He had assumed that once I broke the Maquis code, she could break their lover's code.

Somehow, I'd have to break their code myself— without Janeway's help.

It was slow going, to say the least. There were so many references to things that had obviously been inside jokes and pillow talk between them that I was only certain about a few pieces of information. I pondered the risks of "accidentally" leaking it to Schmullis, so that he could forward it to _Voyager,_ but I knew it was a terribly dangerous and stupid idea.

It was just my frustration talking.

Running my hands over my face, I looked again at what I had. Maybe if I knew what the actual message was supposed to be, I could guess some of the references he was alluding to. But, this was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle by touch.

"Start with what you know are clues," I told myself.

There was something about a pocket watch he had wanted to give to her for her birthday this year— _but what the hell was a pocket watch?_ Then, there was a joke about Tom's ridiculous Captain Proton holonovel that he and Harry had started creating just before our lives all went to hell. " _He must have been dizzy drunk when he thought up that one,"_ Chakotay had written, which was an odd way for him to phrase the sentiment. After that came a series of numbers which meant nothing to me, connected to worries about the crew becoming divided.

"Pocket watch," I murmured, thinking out loud. "Captain Proton is dizzy. Numbers. Crew division. Pocket watch. Proton, dizzy. Dizzy proton. Proton spin, maybe? So, pocket watch. Proton spin. Numbers. Crew division. Numbers and division."

I frowned. Was it an equation? It would be just my luck to have to break a code that assumed the reader had a premier distinction in quantum mechanics from Starfleet Academy, like Janeway did. _Hell_. The one science I could never wrap my mind around at all. Of course our lives would come to depend on the one thing I was too stupid to understand.

 _'Negative self-talk,'_ my counselor's brain warned.

I groaned, pressing fingers into my temples to rub out a mounting headache. I was trying to translate something from a love language I didn't know into a mathematical language I couldn't understand. _'This isn't going to work, Talia._ _You need a real scientist. No matter how you try to pretend, that's just not you. If only Captain Janeway was here—'_

"Hey." Harry's soft voice snapped me out of a rapid digression into self-loathing, stealing my attention away from the computer console in our quarters— Ransom's quarters— to face his own tired eyes, peering at me from the dark bedroom threshold. "Are you coming to bed?"

 _'You know_ ,' my brain supplied, ' _a Chief of Operations might do_.' I smiled. "Yeah, I'll be right there. But before I do, will you look at something for me?"

"Yeah," he half-said-half-yawned as he padded quietly across the room to where I sat. Crouching down beside me and rubbing his eyes, he squinted at the bright screen containing a split view of the letter and my notes. "What's a pocket watch?"

I shrugged.

"It's hard to say with so much missing. It's definitely an equation, and it looks like it might be a magnetic frequency of some kind."

His hand found my cheek, fingers stroking ever so gently as they pulled my attention from the screen and its frustrations to his steady, dark gaze. "We'll pull B'Elanna aside tomorrow and work it out together. First thing in the morning. Yeah?"

The way he looked at me— the way he touched me— I couldn't turn him away. I smiled and nodded. "Okay."

Tugging my face towards his, he lifted his lips to mine. "Come to bed," he whispered.

"Okay."

At my assent, he grasped my hands in his and tugged me to my feet. Gently, he guided me into the bedroom, where he helped me out of my Maquis leathers and thick protective pants, his hands moving over me with the softest touch. When I was left in nothing but my panties and undershirt, he drew back the blankets, pulled me into bed with him, and spooned me to himself.

Every coil of tension left my body at once, and I fell into the deepest sleep I'd had in days.

* * *

The uprising began with a city-wide strike and sit-in at the main square of one of the largest cities on Azahla. It seemed, in every way, to be a grassroots movement by the people of Azahla to inspire peaceful protest and civil disobedience for the sake of better wages and safer working conditions.

But, it was Betien who had scattered the seed.

Within a month, the protests had spread to the entire planet. Within two months, there were protests in neighboring systems, as well. By mid-November, Earth time, most of the Krenim's conquered worlds were in open rebellion.

It was horrifying.

They were being beaten and killed by the hundreds for doing what they did. Then, by the thousands. For a time, the protestors remained peaceful, but inevitably, imperial soldiers would make the mistake of killing a child, and righteous anger would ignite the protest into a mob.

Every time another report came in, I couldn't help but wonder at what a massive waste of life war was. Yet, I was also keenly aware of the stark contrast that existed between my life and theirs. I knew how privileged I had been to grow up in a society that valued my life, and gave its resources to enrich that life. Like the Bajoran Resistance, and to a certain degree the Maquis, these brave rebels willingly sacrificed all they had for the hope of gaining a free life for future generations.

Still, the whole situation tore at me.

On the positive side, the uprisings kept Annorax rather distracted the whole time we were tracking him, and he never once noticed us.

The message Chakotay sent had indeed been the equation for a magnetic frequency. More specifically, it was the chronomagnetic frequency of the _Solassat's_ temporal shields. After Harry and B'Elanna figured that out, it only took a few days to make the necessary sensor modifications. We'd been following him under cloak ever since.

Once we had a good handle on how Annorax's ship got supplies, we began planning our first attacks on his forces. For two weeks, Zahl raiders pounded the _Solassat's_ supply lines before Annorax finally got angry enough to train his weapon on Azahla. He knew that erasing the Zahl would hurt the Krenim Imperium— they had benefited his empire greatly— but he could not allow the rebellion to continue.

It was time.

My bridge crew and I watched from under the relative safety of our cloak as Annorax tried to persuade Betiel to stand down.

"I don't want to have to give the order to erase your civilization from history, Betiel," Annorax insisted. "But you leave me little choice."

"It wouldn't fix your problem, General. We're not alone."

"Perhaps. But, you are the instigators. Without your influence, the others would have no reason to rise up against the government that feeds and protects them."

"Oh, but they would," Betiel corrected. "Because this is not the Zahl revolution. It is the queen's."

Annorax flinched ever so slightly. "I can assure you that Queen Nilat has no involvement in your little rebellion. She is just as grieved over the unnecessary loss of life as I am."

"You and I both know that is a lie, General, because your wife has been dead for a hundred and fifty years. You also know that she never should have been queen in the first place."

Annorax snorted. "Preposterous!"

At that very moment, the Srivani fleet de-cloaked, revealing hundreds of small but powerful ghost-ships in a defensive formation between the _Solassat_ and Azahla.

"The Srivani," Annorax murmured, his face flushing red.

Betiel smiled. "I believe you are familiar with my friends, General?"

On the _Equinox_ , hidden behind the shadow of the smallest moon, I held up my left hand, index finger extended, letting Harry know to be ready at any second to set our part of the plan into motion.

"They're supposed to be extinct."

Dropping my arm, I redirected the aim of my pointer towards the screen. Then, from the center of Equinox's bridge, Nessav Kyana, the rightful queen of the Krenim Imperium, began to speak in her utterly commanding and regal way.

"They are _supposed_ to be extinct, yes," she agreed, lifting her pointed chin. "But they are not, and neither is the line of the true heir of the Kyana inheritance."

Swirls of strawberry-blonde hair hovered gently over the blossom of cartilage embossed on either of the Krenim woman's temples, but most of her long, wavy tresses had simply been draped over her shoulders to hang loosely down her back.

"My name is Nessav Kyana, the true queen of the Krenim Imperium. As you can see, I am quite alive and quite safe. My genetic integrity has been carefully protected so that there can be no question as to who and what I am. I will take my rightful place as head of the Krenim state, which means, General, that your time has come to an end. But, I do not wish for more bloodshed. Surrender your vessel and my inheritance. Let us come to terms peacefully."

"If you think I'll just hand over the _Solassat_ and my military based on one speech from some displaced little girl I've never seen before today, then you're not very intelligent."

"Would you like another speech, then, General?" she quipped. "I have many more prepared."

He chortled. "Come to the _Solassat_ , my dear. My doctors will examine your DNA. If you truly are who you say you are, I will be happy to give you what you ask for."

"Do you think I am a fool, General? You will kill me the moment I step foot on your ship. Perhaps you would rather I announce myself to the entire region, encourage all of your subjects— Krenim and otherwise— to rise up and slaughter your imperial armies down to the last man?"

"That would be a poor choice on your part, _your_ _highness_ , as you would then have no army for yourself."

Nessav made a sweeping gesture with her hands. "Have you not noticed? I already have an army."

"A renegade band of foreigners who will turn on you the moment you have what you want. Who will defend you then? The Imperium's own women and children?"

"You vastly underestimate the power of women and children, General. But, there will be no need. I have already made terms with the Srivani, the Zahl, the B'omar, the Mari, and every other sovereign government you bullied into subservience with your temporal abomination."

"Those savages can't be trusted. They will slaughter our people and squander the peace and prosperity that we have built here."

"They are not the savages here, General," Nessav fired back, "and they will not abandon me when I take what is mine. But if that does not convince you, allow me to inform you of my latest political maneuver. I have recently finalized negotiations on another treaty between the new Krenim government, the United Underspace Coalition, and the United Federation of Planets."

As soon as those words left the queen's lips, I felt the haughty smirk on my face immediately give way to a look of gaping, ghastly surprise. This was not part of the plan, at least not as far as I knew. Was she bluffing?

Annorax narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

Then, a distinctively husky voice echoed through the com.

"Believe her, General," Captain Janeway implored as her image joined in with the visual conference on everyone's view screens. "The queen is telling the truth. As of last week, both the Federation and the Coalition are allied with the Krenim Commonwealth, effective immediately upon Queen Nessav Kyana's ascension to the throne."

She had cut her hair short in the months since I'd seen her last— shorter than mine, which was already starting to creep past my shoulders— but she remained just as fearsome and commanding as ever. Beside her stood the Turei leader with whom we had met on Nikatos.

I smiled _._

"A commonwealth? Have you lost your mind, little girl? You think you can throw away centuries of Krenim greatness, give away our people's accomplishments to strangers, simply because you share a few genetic markers in common with my wife? You will never board my ship or take away my empire. The Krenim are _my_ children, not yours. You, child, are just as much of an alien as your rebel friends.

"Therefore, on behalf of the Kyana dynasty and the Krenim Imperium, I hereby reject your claim to the inheritance of our people. You are an imposter to the throne and a traitor to the Krenim people, and you will pay for your crimes with the blood of every single insurgent who stands against me. If you really want to avoid bloodshed, call off the rebellion, and I will grant mercy to the poor, innocent civilians whom you have so abhorrently preyed upon. After that, I suggest you go back into hiding, because I _will_ come for you, and you _will_ be brought to account for what you have done. May the goddess have mercy on your soul."

With that, the com line was cut, the screen went black, and the _Solassat_ went to warp.

I hardly had time to consciously form the first question in my mind— Where the hell was _Voyager_ hiding?— when a com alert sounded from the operations console, upon which I had been leaning throughout the negotiation. I spun on my heel to face Harry, fully expecting it to be a hail from _Voyager_.

"It's Betiel," Harry said, glancing up to meet my eyes. "A data transmission."

"What kind?"

His gaze returned to the console as he tapped at his controls. "Another code from the _Solassat_. He says it was piggybacked on Annorax's com, and that it's not any code known to the Zahl or the rebellion. He thinks it might be another of Chakotay's codes."

Quickly, I rounded Harry's station and stared down at the code, only to have my view obscured by another com signal notification. It was _Voyager_.

"Tell her to wait just a minute," I snapped, and he passed along the message.

With the code once again at the forefront of my vision, my brain rapidly supplied its source. "This isn't Maquis," I said. "This code— it's Kardasi. The transmission didn't come from Chakotay; it came from Iliana."

"Could be a virus," Tom pointed out.

Harry nodded. "It could."

I had half a mind to purge the damn thing entirely from the ship's computers. Of course she had sent a virus, the snake! Yet, my gut told me something else. What if she had changed her mind? It could also be exactly what we needed to disable Annorax's timeship and bring a swift end to what promised to be a bloody war.

"There's only one way to find out," I said. "Get Captain Janeway on a secure channel and route it to my ready room. I want to know what the hell is going on here, and then I want to break that code."

* * *

"Were you ever actually intending to follow my plan?"

Captain Janeway gave a wry smile. "I considered it."

"For how long?"

"About an hour."

I raised an eyebrow. "That long? Well, that makes me feel a _little_ better."

"It wasn't a bad plan," she reassured me. "But, when I spoke with Tuvok, he suggested that there might be a way to satisfy all of our problems without throwing the former Maquis under the nacelles. This treaty will save a lot of lives, both in the present conflict and in the conflicts yet to come with the Borg."

"It will. But, what about the Prime Directive?"

"I convinced Starfleet that having an operative of the Obsidian Order forcibly removed from our custody and held captive by an aggressive race with the power to alter time constituted an unacceptable situation in which we were involved against our will, and are obligated to correct. If she were to turn on us, and gain control of that timeship—"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Janeway noted my reaction to her statement, and her brow scrunched with concern. "Is everything alright, Commander?"

"Yes and no. It's a long story, and I'd rather not share it over the com. Are you near Azahla? Could we possibly speak in person?"

* * *

 _Voyager_ had hidden itself on a large asteroid in the belt ringing the middle of the Zahl system. They had arrived a day ago. Queen Nessav had known, as had Betiel, Elentia, and a handful of Srivani. Schmullis also knew, of course. Other than that, their arrival had somehow gone unnoticed.

I made the announcement to the crew en route to _Voyager's_ location. As far as Starfleet was concerned, our actions had always been part of Captain Janeway's plan. No mutiny would ever be put on record for anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact; due to the Federation's continuing war with the Dominion, which included Cardassia, Janeway had been able to sway several of the admirals into admitting that we were all as good as on the same side. It wasn't a full pardon for our past crimes, but it was a start.

After transporting to _Voyager_ , I met with Janeway, Tuvok, and Captain Ransom in the ready room, and brought them up to speed on what we had been doing in the months since our ships parted ways. Janeway couldn't help but smile when I told her about the coded love letter from Chakotay. Knowing ahead of time that she would ask, I had brought a copy of it with me.

"What's a pocket watch?" she asked.

Thanks to Tom, who was a geek for Terran historical trivia, I knew the answer. "It's a sort of ancient chronometer that people used to wear as jewelry. It hung on a chain that could be attached to jackets, vests, or slacks, and then the chronometer would rest inside of an adjacent pocket. That hint was what told us the frequency was _chrono_ -magnetic, but I'm sure the pocket watch has more of a story behind it than just that."

"Brilliant," she murmured. "Thank you for bringing this."

"Of course."

With one last look at the PADD, Janeway cleared her throat and set the device down in the space between where she and I sat next to each other on the couch. "I don't imagine that you wanted to meet in person just to catch up."

"Unfortunately, no. I need help with a risky, but necessary, operation that the _Equinox_ cannot be involved in."

"Go on," she implored. On her other side, Captain Ransom angled forward, ready to listen and speak. Tuvok stood in front of the railing with his hands clasped behind his back, his demeanor as stoic as always.

"During our communication with General Annorax earlier," I said, "Betiel received a transmission piggybacked onto the com signal from the _Solassat_. It was an encoded message, but it wasn't any of the codes used by the resistance, so he sent it to us thinking it was from Chakotay. It's not." I paused to take a breath. "The code is Kardasi, Captain. Chakotay barely knew how to ask for the bathroom in Kardasi. There is no way that code came from him."

"Then, we must conclude that it was sent by Ms. Ghemor," Tuvok said.

Ransom frowned. "Why would she use a Cardassian code? Nobody in sixty thousand light-years could read that message. What purpose would it serve?"

Janeway and Tuvok both looked to me.

"I can," I said. "I studied Kardasi at the academy. I speak it quite proficiently. Not only that, but I used to serve as a code-breaker for the Maquis. I know exactly the code she used. I can break it and translate it into Standard immediately."

Ransom gaped at me as if I had sprouted another head. That revelation would normally be way above his clearance, given his limited tactical training. Under the circumstances, however, he needed to know.

Janeway cleared her throat.

"Do you believe the transmission contains a virus, Commander?" Tuvok asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know what it contains. Part of me thinks there's no way it could be anything but malware meant to sabotage the resistance. But, my gut tells me something else."

Janeway placed a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention to her. Her blue eyes bored into mine, reminding me of the depths of her trust in me. "What does your gut tell you it is, Talia?"

"A way to disable the _Solassat_ and end the war," I said. "But, if I'm wrong, if it is malware and it sabotages the _Equinox_ and blows our cover, we will not only lose the element of surprise, but also put the queen in danger."

"What alternative did you have in mind?" Tuvok inquired.

"Two shuttles. One for me where I can work on the code, and the other to follow and keep a transporter lock on me in case I go tits-up."


	12. Oh, Ye of Little Faith

**Oh, Ye of Little Faith**

* * *

My gut turned out to be, thankfully, correct.

"It's a huge file," I told the officers and resistance leaders who crowded into the conference room an hour after Tom and I returned to _Voyager_. I stood at the wall console to the side of the room, where I had uploaded and displayed the files Iliana sent. Tom leaned up against the wall on the other side of the console, watching me as I briefed the room. "The main bulk of the transmission is a ship's schematic for the _Solassat_."

"Gods almighty," Betiel murmured as I pulled up the file and displayed it on the screen. "Do you know how long we've been after this? Not even Obrist was allowed access to this file— only Annorax. How did she get this?"

"She got into his head," I said simply, punctuating my comment with a perfunctory shrug.

When his head tilted to the right, Janeway clarified. "Miss Ghemor has a great deal of specialized training in subterfuge."

"You mean to say, Captain, that she is a spy?" asked Queen Nessav.

"That is exactly what I'm saying, your highness. Probably groomed from childhood."

"Somehow," I continued, "over the last few months, it seems she has mislead General Annorax about her intentions and gained his trust. It's also possible she was able to hack into his system and steal the schematics. She is an incredibly talented programmer."

"How can we trust this information?" the Srivani representative inquired, lifting their pointed chin and giving me a questioning look. "It could be a trap."

"You're right. It could be a trap. But, I can tell you that not only do her schematics match up with everything Obrist has been able to tell you about the _Solassat_ , but the plan she has submitted for infiltrating the timeship is sound."

Their head tilted to the side, swirling blue spots accentuating the ridges of cartilage stretching from their cheek to their ear. "How can you know that?"

"Because it's a tactic that she's used before," Janeway said. Casting a glance in my direction, she offered a quick, "Thank you, Commander," to me before then turning her attention to her acting first officer. "Tuvok?"

With every seat occupied, I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall between the console and the replicator.

Tuvok proceeded to explain the second part of Iliana's transmission— our plan of action. "Beneath the temporal shielding, there is a second barrier of defensive shielding. Adjusting for the chronomagnetic shielding only allows us to track the _Solassat._ To infiltrate the vessel requires adjusting for both layers of shielding. Miss Ghemor has provided us with the frequency of that defensive shield, as well as the access codes required to compensate for any attempts to remodulate."

Betiel raised a hand. "Obrist intended to send us that information only after we had prepared a workable plan of attack. It does us no good to have the ability to penetrate the _Solassat's_ defenses until we can find a way to get our infantry safely inside. Our resources for developing new technologies are very limited. We do not have the ability to generate a temporal shield around our own ships, which we would need to do before attempting to board the _Solassat_. Otherwise, the temporal shift will kill our people during transport. According to our last message from Obrist, he and your Commander Chakotay were still attempting to compensate for that. Has your spy accomplished that which Annorax's own second-in-command cannot?"

Tuvok's chin lifted ever-so-slightly. "Indeed, she has."

Betiel grunted, obviously still skeptical, but Elentia took his hand. "I have met Iliana Ghemor, father, before she was taken." Her gaze was piercing as he turned to look at her, conveying something deep and unspoken. "She does not seek that which Annorax does. She does not want power for the sake of power, but for the future of her own people. Annorax cannot give that to her; only _Voyager_ can. It is her only way back home."

With his free hand, Betiel gently stroked her face. "Tia, my sweet girl, always seeing the best in everyone. But, you cannot know what kind of spell he has put her under. Surely, he has convinced her that he can give her what she wants better than Captain Janeway can."

"She is not one to be deceived," Elentia insisted, "not even by Annorax. I have felt her essence, father. It is troubled, but it is good, and it is very strong. I believe that she wants to help us. We must trust her. This will save many lives."

My eyes went wide as a new realization struck me.

At her seat between Tuvok and Elentia, Queen Nessav smiled to herself as she watched her beloved work.

After a few quiet moments, Betiel finally relented to his daughter with a subtle bow.

Elentia beamed. When her gaze turned outward once again, and fell upon me, she took note of my expression and bowed her head, confirming what I had only just noticed about her.

She was an empath.

There was something else, though. Elentia's speech to her father wasn't just for him; it was for me, too. She must have felt my suffering through the weeks of terrorizing flashbacks to the soldier who had tortured and assaulted me all those years ago. She must have sensed my hatred for Cardassians, must have noticed how easily I had been willing to believe the worst of Iliana in spite of the woman's incredible progress over the past two years.

No one would have blamed me for it, considering the transgressions Cardassia had committed against my people, and the trauma that I had been subjected to at their hands. But, I knew it wasn't right. For the first time, I had finally reached a point where I could move on from that experience, and for a while I truly believed that I had. Yet, once again, I had allowed the actions of that Kardasi soldier to taint my assumptions of all Kardasi— of Iliana. I had to stop blaming her entire species for the sins of her government and its soldiers, as if I was any better than they were.

As if I couldn't have possibly been just as brutal if only I had lived a different life.

Elentia smiled at me as I blinked back tears and returned her bow. Then, I schooled my face into a professional expression once more.

Sensing that everyone was ready to continue, Captain Janeway turned back to Tuvok and asked him to resume his debrief.

"Miss Ghemor has provided us with the information necessary to modify Federation technology for the purpose of transporting crew onto the _Solassat_. Given that neither she nor General Annorax knows about the Equinox, I have modified her original plan to more accurately account for all of our assets. The sequence of events is as follows:

" _Voyager_ will proceed to Kyana Prime with a large contingent of resistance vessels, where we will occupy the remains of the royal colony and draw the _Solassat_ to us. The _Equinox_ will remain cloaked nearby to scan for its arrival."

"I apologize for the interruption, Commander," Betiel said, "but Kyana Prime has been all but abandoned for the last hundred and fifty years. Only those responsible for upkeep of the castle and grounds ever go there. It is no longer of importance to General Annorax."

"To the contrary," Tuvok argued. "Kyana Prime is of utmost importance. It is the temporal anchor that allows the _Solassat_ to remain tethered to a fixed point in space-time, in spite of functioning outside of it."

Betiel tilted his head. "Explain."

"Kyana Prime is the only constant, fixed point through every temporal incursion Annorax makes," Janeway said. "It is a safeguard, a vault, to ensure the continued existence of the histories he wants to keep. Whatever happens on Kyana Prime, happens in every timeline. If we threaten to cut that anchor, then we threaten his ability to selectively manipulate time relative to the Krenim Imperium."

Without pause, Tuvok continued. "Once General Annorax arrives to negotiate, he will be given one last chance to surrender. Should he refuse— and it is quite likely that he will— resistance forces will concentrate their fire on a single shield generator on the forward hull, starboard side, until both layers of shielding are breached. The moment this is accomplished, the _Equinox_ will disengage its cloak, raise temporal shields, graft itself into the _Solassat's_ interdimentional bubble, and transport aboard. Once the imperial crew are in custody, Miss Ghemor will disable the temporal core, take the vessel out of orbit, and initiate a warp core overload. All remaining crew will have precisely ninety seconds to return to the _Equinox_ and move to a safe distance before the _Solassat_ is destroyed."

Queen Nessav inclined slightly forward in her seat. "Will the destruction of the _Solassat_ result in any changes to the timeline?"

"As long as the temporal core is offline, there is no threat of temporal incursion."

"Are there any other questions, comments, or concerns?" Janeway asked. When the only reply to meet her was silence, she gave a firm nod. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

As _Voyager's_ guests stood and began filtering out of the room, Captain Janeway called my attention to her. "Commander, if you and Lieutenant Paris would remain here, please."

"Of course," I answered with a nod, and we obediently moved around the table to take the seats next to Tuvok. Across from us sat Captain Ransom and Lieutenant Commander Burke, quietly watching us, having evidently known beforehand not to leave when the meeting adjourned.

"You have done a fine job on this mission," she began as she stood from her own seat at the head of the conference table, made her way towards the replicator, input a manual command, and replicated something for herself. "You have gone above and beyond the call of duty as Starfleet officers."

She pivoted on a heel, clasping her hands— and whatever was in her hands— behind her back as she turned to regard us with her commanding gaze. "If I could, I would put you both up for promotions."

Then, she picked a leisurely pace as she glided around the table, making her way towards us. "This past year, you have proven yourselves to be exemplary commanders. More than that, you have proven, time and time again, that you are determined to be two of Starfleet's finest officers, regardless of whether Command recognizes that or not."

Finally, she came to rest in between, and just behind, our chairs. "Now that the ruse is done, I'd like for you both to get back into uniform and return to your stations on my bridge so that Captain Ransom and Lieutenant Commander Burke can resume their own posts on the _Equinox_. Of course, you'll have to spend some time debriefing them, so you'll have a chance to say goodbye to that fine vessel before turning her over entirely."

Tom and I exchanged glances. I'd had a feeling this was coming, and I could hardly blame Ransom and Burke for being antsy to get back to their ship, but there was just one issue. "Captain Janeway, Captain Ransom, if I may have permission to speak?"

Ransom glanced at Janeway, quirking an eyebrow in want of her word before shifting his eyes to me and approving my request with a nod.

"Captain Ransom, it is my judgement that you will want to keep at least a few operations and engineering staff from Voyager on board the _Equinox_ until this mission is complete, in order to assist your crew with the technologies we have been utilizing over the past several months."

"I agree," he said. "Who did you have in mind?"

"Any of the former-Maquis crew in those divisions would do well. Although, as both his commander and his counselor, I must request that Crewman Lon Suder not be assigned to your ship. He is an exemplary engineer, and a highly skilled fighter, but I do not think it would be psychologically healthy for him to be placed in a combat situation if it can be avoided."

"Noted. Any other suggestions?"

"I know that she hasn't been with the _Equinox_ these past months, but I think you will find Ensign Lyndsay Ballard to be a great asset to your team in operating and maintaining the cloaking technology. She was the lead on the efforts to repair it before we left, and she did quite well. In fact, she asked to accompany Lieutenant Carey when _Voyager's_ engineering team transported over to the _Equinox_ a few hours ago, and the last update I received had her still with Chief Torres and the Srivani engineers, tinkering with the cloak. Of course, I am presuming here that Captain Janeway intends to also recall her chief engineer back to Voyager?"

I could swear I heard a smile in the voice behind me when she responded, "You presume correctly, Commander."

"Anyone else?" Ransom asked.

"Two others," I informed him. "First, I realize that you already have a Chief Tactical Officer, but I suggest that you keep Lieutenant Ayala and his security teams on board, as well. He has been invaluable in terms of working with the resistance to plan our attack strategies, and you will want to have as many skilled fighters as you can when you take the _Solassat_."

"Agreed. And the second?"

I cleared my throat and willed my tongue to speak the one name that, more than all the others, I selfishly wanted to keep to myself. "Lieutenant Harry Kim, sir. My— my operations manager. He has had his hands in every single technological upgrade, every ship's system, and in every command decision I have made." I swallowed, hard, hoping that I wasn't sending my own husband to his death. "Frankly, Captain, you need him."

"Are you sure you're not letting personal feelings interfere with your judgement here, Commander?" Lieutenant Commander Burke chimed in, regarding me suspiciously.

I shook my head. "No, sir. If I were, I wouldn't have recommended him at all."

I felt the captain's hand settle on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She, of all people, understood exactly what I meant. "I agree with Miss Eelo's suggestions. Mister Kim is a brilliant technician, and a fine officer. As are Lieutenant Ayala and Ensign Ballard. You will value their input and assistance in this mission. Is this acceptable to you, Captain?"

Ransom nodded. "Alright."

"I'll still want them to report to me at some point during the day today," Janeway continued, her hand slipping away from my shoulder. "And they'll need to retrieve their uniforms. And, speaking of uniforms—" Leaning down in between mine and Tom's chairs, she set two very small, identical jewelry boxes on the table in front of us, then righted her posture once more. "You'll both need these in order to get dressed properly."

Everything inside of me seemed to freeze, suspended from that very moment. Slowly, I reached out to take the box and lift the lid. Inside sat three pips. Two were of solid brass, and one was blackened in the center— a Lieutenant Commander's pips to replace the provisional rank bar that I had worn for so long.

My breath caught in my throat, and I feared I might choke on it. I glanced over at Tom and saw that he, too, was given pips to replace his provisional rank bar. His box held two solid brass pips, representing a promotion to full Lieutenant.

As if we shared a mind, Tom and I both swiveled our chairs around to gape at Captain Janeway, who stood, grinning, behind us.

"Captain," I said with a gasp. "How—?"

"As I told you before, Commander," she said, "I convinced them that we were all on the same side now."

"But, the first transmission, they said— they told you not to—"

She raised a hand in the air, putting a stop to my bumbling parlance. "They did, but I happen to be on a first name basis with quite a few of the admirals at Command. I also had Admirals Paris and Peters backing my request, who were more than happy to advocate on behalf of the former Maquis crew. There will be no more provisional ranks aboard my ship. They have all been approved— every single one. As of today, you have all been either re-commissioned or enlisted into the service of the United Federation of Planets."

"What about Chakotay and Iliana?"

"I have Commander Chakotay's pips waiting for him on his desk," she replied with a warm smile. "They were none too happy about my insistence on recognizing Iliana, but they have agreed to give her two options; she can either be a civilian engineer and tactical consultant for this crew, or she can enlist, take the uniform, and resume her post on the bridge."

I wiped furiously at the tears that were burning hot, wet trails down my cheeks, a mutiny against my attempts to maintain emotional control.

Recommissioned. I had been recommissioned. We all had.

 _"It would not be entirely impossible for you to rejoin Starfleet,"_ Tuvok had once said to me, as we surveyed the Caretaker's array on a day that felt like a lifetime ago. _"Difficult, perhaps, but with help, it could be accomplished."_

 _"Is that an offer, Tuvok?_ " I had asked him.

 _"That would depend on choices you have not yet made."_ he had replied. _"However, there are currently many at Starfleet who would be gratified to see you recommissioned, myself included."_

I'd dismissed his statement within myself right off-hand. Impossible! It was impossible. I was unbending in my belief that Starfleet could never forgive what I had done, nor could I forgive them. But, Tuvok had been right.

Clutching the tiny box in my hands, I turned to look at him. He met my eyes with a gratified expression, and he nodded.

When Captain Janeway dismissed us, I couldn't move. Tom had to drag me to my feet, and he immediately took me, trembling, into his arms. I felt the shaking begin to quake his chest as I buried my face in it, and for a brief, silly moment, I wondered if he might be crying, too.

But, he wasn't. He was trying very hard not to laugh.

As soon as the realization hit me, I sucked in a loud sob, and then I suddenly found myself laughing, as well. His arms squeezed tighter around me and, taking my outburst as permission, he finally allowed his own laughter to ring throughout the conference room.

After pressing a kiss onto the top of my head, Tom stepped back, took my face in his hands, and wiped the moisture from my cheeks. His blue eyes bored into mine. "Marnah and Jay would be very proud."

"Proud of us both. As is your father."

He blinked, dipped his head, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess he is."

By the end of my last full day in command of the _Equinox,_ every single one of my crew had been informed of the changes. There was a renewed sense of purpose after that, a sense of hope. I had no idea how it had come about, what Daddy or Admiral Paris had said, or which strings Captain Janeway had pulled to move this decision through as quickly as it went. Whatever they did, it worked.

More than that, we had personally changed over the past several months. We had wrestled our demons, mourned our losses, and completed our catharsis. We were ready to come home to _Voyager_ again, the prodigal children returning to our captain who never once stopped believing in us. By the power of that belief, Captain Janeway accomplished that which I had been unable to. She had bridged the canyon between us, made us one crew again, and nudged us back onto the path towards our long-term goal of reaching the Alpha Quadrant together.

I didn't ask Annika for her thoughts on how it had happened, or if it made her question Borg philosophy any further. Just as well, for she would likely need time to process it and reflect. Hindsight could sometimes be so much clearer than presence, and I felt sure that I would have plenty of time to help her with it in the future.

There was just one thing yet to do before we could actually resume course. We needed to get our last two missing crew members back. All it would take was aiding and abetting a rebellion, overthrowing a dictator, and destroying a weaponized interdimensional timeship.

Piece of cake.


	13. All the Queen's Men

**All the Queen's Men**

 _CW: Character death_

* * *

I had assumed that when I officially handed off the _Equinox_ to Captain Ransom the next day, it would be with a simple handshake as I joined the last of my crew on the transporter pad before beaming over to _Voyager_. It had never really been my ship. I had merely borrowed it for a while, and without his permission.

So, I was quite surprised when he insisted on holding a formal command transfer ceremony. It had been entirely his idea and his decision; Captain Janeway insisted she had nothing to do with it, and I believed her. It wasn't until I stood side-by-side with Ransom on his bridge, the ceremony being transmitted live to the entire ship, that I finally understood.

It was an olive branch, offered to the former Maquis from him and his crew. By publicly acknowledging me as a legitimate commanding officer on the _Equinox_ , even going so far as to enter me and my crew into the ship's records, he was showing us right from the start that he considered us equals rather than traitors and criminals, and he was ordering his own crew to do the same.

It wasn't only for show, however. After the ceremony was over, and the ship-wide com link terminated, he grasped my shoulder and looked me squarely in the eyes as he said, "I cannot let you walk off this bridge without telling you that you clearly belong in a red uniform instead of a blue one. But, I also cannot say that without also acknowledging this: If counseling is what you truly love, you should never let anyone convince you that you belong anywhere else."

In that moment, the reason for the regret in his eyes became apparent to me. He missed science deeply, and he didn't want me to make the same mistake that he had. It wasn't that he was telling me not to switch to command; rather, he was advising me to weigh the decision carefully before I committed to it.

I smiled at him, hoping that my eyes conveyed my understanding and gratitude of that which remained unspoken between us. It was the highest compliment he could have possibly given me that I, a Maquis, had earned his respect as a person, a commander, and a senior officer. It was not something either of us would take lightly as we made our way home together.

After ensuring that my crew and their belongings had all been successfully transported to _Voyager_ , I shook the hand of every officer and crewman I was leaving behind for the mission. When I apologized half-jokingly to Lyndsay Ballard for volunteering her, she grinned and replied, " _Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam_."

 _Today is a good day to die._

I slapped her on the shoulder and smiled back. "Today is a good day to _live_."

Then, at very last, I came to Harry. Briefly, I considered forcing myself to be just as professional as I had been with the others, but something told me not to waste the opportunity to say good-bye. Annorax could arrive in a day, or in a month; there was no way to know how long we would be apart. So, relaxing my bravado, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him close, allowing the tears to escape my eyes as I breathed in his comforting scent. Without a word, we simply held each other for a long moment, just existing in our own version of timelessness.

But eventually, entropy came to tap me on the shoulder and remind me that she still governed my life, so I released my grip and stepped back. Bringing my hands to cup his face, I gazed into his dark, glassy eyes before lifting up on my toes to take his mouth with mine. "I love you," I whispered against his lips.

"I love you, too," he replied.

Sinking back onto my heels and allowing my hands to slide down flat against his chest, I met his eyes once more. "Come back to me," I ordered.

His hands found my face and wiped away the remnants of my tears. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

It was a four-day trip to Kyana Prime. Because we had not the time nor the resources to build a cloak for _Voyager_ , the Srivani had come up with a different plan. Aligning several of their ships protectively all around _Voyager_ , they synchronized their cloaking frequencies so that they could form one large cloak around their ships and ours. They formed several other fleets to conceal the ships of our other allies, as well. It meant we had to travel very slowly and carefully, but it also meant we all went undetected.

After taking control of Kyana Prime, we tapped into the royal broadcasting system and transmitted a message to the entire region from Nessav Kyana herself; Queen Nilat Kyana was dead, General Annorax was a liar and a dictator, and she, Nessav, was the true heir to the Krenim Imperium. She stated that she had retaken the royal colony, her rightful home, and was prepared to take her rightful place of rule. She also informed the people of her plans to free occupied worlds and create a commonwealth instead. Finally, she encouraged everyone to stand up and fight back against Annorax and his oppressive armies, insisting that it was everyone's basic right to be free.

Two days later, the _Solassat_ entered the Kyana system.

* * *

Captain Janeway used her every last diplomatic skill and negotiation tactic to try and convince General Annorax to surrender peacefully to Queen Nessav. Still, he refused. Nobody was surprised.

What left us all feeling uneasy was the moment when Annorax stepped aside during those negotiations to reveal Chakotay, bound and gagged and kneeling on the floor. Behind him stood Iliana, who gripped a clump of his hair roughly with one hand hand to expose his throat, and held an energy weapon of some kind in her other hand, jammed up against the underside of his chin.

"I have learned a great deal about you over the past few months, Captain," Annorax said smoothly over the com. "You are not like those savages you have allied yourself with. You're civilized, enlightened. You can accomplish so much more without them dragging you into their barbaric little rebellion.

"I could be your ally. I can help you reach Earth. End your fruitless alliance with these primitive aliens and I will show you how to modify your ship's technology so you can bend time and space to your will. You could be home tomorrow, Captain. You can marry the man you love, start a family, have everything you ever wanted. Or, you can watch him die. What will it be?"

Janeway's jaw tensed, but she jutted out her chin defiantly and crossed her arms in front of her. "If you really think that I can be persuaded by my personal feelings to overlook your obscene disregard for temporal integrity or your tyrannical oppression of others, then you clearly don't know me as well as you think you do. Disengage your temporal core, and surrender your ship, or we will destroy you."

"You know I will not do that, Captain."

"Then I guess we'll just have to do this the hard way."

"Indeed. Any last words to your beloved before I kill him?" Annorax was taunting her.

She did not rise to the bait.

"Nothing he doesn't already know," Janeway answered, her tone still confident but no longer biting.

Annorax gave Janeway a nod. "Very well, Captain. Good luck."

With that, the screen went black.

In the space of a breath, the Srivani fleet decloaked, revealing hundreds of Srivani, Zahl, Mari, and other ships already in formation to stand against Annorax's massive weapon. One by one, the fleets rushed at the _Solassat_ , strafing the larger vessel just as we had planned. Though the _Solassat's_ weapons were quite capable of obliterating the tiny ships with one shot, there were simply too many for him to deal with, and his ship was too clumsy to keep up. Normally, that wouldn't have mattered, but with the timeship's shield frequencies and access codes, it took mere minutes to disable the shield generator they had all been targeting, leaving a hole in the _Solassat's_ defenses.

Next, came the truly dangerous part.

Truth be told, I would have given my right arm to be on Annorax's bridge when the _Equinox_ dropped its cloak. Nobody on that ship knew anything about it— not Annorax, not Obrist, not Chakotay, and not Iliana. Were it not for the grave seriousness of the situation, it could have been amusing to think about the looks on all of their faces at that exact moment.

Yet, that brief, light-hearted thought was quickly snatched away from my mind by the worry that Annorax might order Iliana to kill Chakotay before she was able to reveal her deception to him. And I knew that if it came down to risking the mission by revealing herself too soon, or sacrificing Chakotay's life to save her own, she wouldn't think twice about shooting him.

I just hoped there was enough of Seska's love for him left in her to do everything she possibly could to save them both.

It was an agonizing wait as the Equinox grafted into the _Solassat's_ bubble and carried out its part of the plan. Janeway barked out orders to various officers, Tom deftly guided _Voyager_ around the timeship, and Tuvok strategically laid down fire in an attempt to distract the ship's operators as much as possible from the invading Zahl, Srivani, Mari, and Starfleet forces. Meanwhile, I focused every bit of my energy on monitoring the sensor readings I controlled from the bridge's science station.

I felt incredibly antsy just sitting on the bridge of a ship doing comparatively little for the cause. It was a maddening feeling, because I hated the realities of war, and I despised what I had to be on the field of battle. But in that moment, I realized that I had irrevocably become a soldier. I wasn't in the middle of the fray anymore, and it made me feel miserable.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally saw what I had been waiting for. "Captain," I announced, "I'm detecting a massive drop in the _Solassat's_ chronomagnetic field."

"The temporal core?" she asked.

"It appears so," I replied.

"Confirmed," came B'Elanna's voice from ops. A few seconds later, she added, "Chronomagnetic shields are down. The temporal core has been deactivated, Captain."

"Open a channel to all fleets," the captain ordered.

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna answered. "Channel open."

"Janeway to all resistance forces: Stand down attacks. Repeat, stand down attacks."

The _Equinox_ followed closely as the Solassat broke orbit, moving safely away from Kyana Prime. Janeway ordered Tom to stay close, as well, ready to receive any casualties or prisoners that the _Equinox_ might send our way. Indeed, almost as soon as the _Solassat_ came to a stop, we got word that we would be receiving a number of both.

Then, Captain Ransom hailed to let us know it was time. Just as we reached Kyana Prime's closest moon, the _Solassat's_ core breached, engulfing the timeship in a brilliant flash of white-hot light that lasted for mere seconds before being quickly snuffed out by the vacuum of space.

After that, there was only debris.

Captain Janeway barely had time to order Tom to return to Kyana Prime before Chakotay himself hailed the bridge from sickbay. My brief moment of joy at hearing him alive and safe and back on _Voyager_ was quickly squashed by his reason for the com. He was requesting me.

Harry had been one of the first emergency transports sent to our sickbay.

* * *

I could hear my heart beating in my ears as my feet carried me swiftly through the sickbay doors.

The whole place was in chaos. Every biobed was occupied and surrounded by a privacy field. Emergency cots filled the open space in the middle of the room with more wounded, who were being triaged by the handful of nurses and medics that Schmullis and Kes had trained over the years. From behind the privacy field obscuring the surgical bay, I could vaguely make out the sound of Kes's calm but sure voice as she performed an emergency surgery on someone.

Meanwhile, at the biobed farthest from the sickbay doors, Schmullis was trying to save another member of the crew who was barely holding onto life by their fingertips.

"Talia," I heard Chakotay say from behind me, and I whirled towards the sound of his voice.

He was really there— right there in front of me— and I was frozen in shock at the sight of him healthy and whole and wearing strange civilian clothes. I stared at him with wide-eyes and a gaping mouth for a long moment before the cacophony of emotions slammed into me. Then, I threw myself into his arms.

Our reunion was short-lived, though, and I quickly pulled back. "Harry?" I asked breathlessly.

He shook his head. "I don't know. All I know is that he's here, and it's serious. Right now, we just have to wait and stay out of the way. But, I'll stay with you until we know."

I nodded and turned to look again at the room just as the patient Schmullis was working on began to code. Without thinking, I surged forward. If it was my husband dying on the other side of that partition, then I deserved to be at his side.

As if he had read my mind, Chakotay wrapped his hands firmly around my upper arms, bringing my forward motion to a jarring halt.

"No!" I shouted, but it was no use. His strong arms wrapped around me like a vice, trapping my own arms and holding me tightly against his chest. I started to cry just as I heard Schmullis grimly speak the words I feared the most.

"Time of death, 1923 hours."


	14. Ember in the Ashes

**Ember in the Ashes**

 _CW: Character death_

* * *

He was gone. The only person I had ever been in love with— just like that, he was gone. I was alone.

"I'm so sorry," Dr. Schmullis said quietly before turning away, needing to move on to his next patient. Harry was not the first to die that day, and there would be more carnage before the long night was done.

But why, _why_ , did it have to be Harry?

After transferring his body onto a stretcher, two medical assistants carried him over to a cot where they left him until there would be enough time to transfer him to a stasis unit to await autopsy.

Numbly, I walked over to his bedside and dropped to my knees, putting me on level with the two low-sitting cots between which I knelt.

No tears came at all, and I wondered what was wrong with me. My husband had just died. Why the hell could I not cry? I felt so strongly that I should be crying, but nothing came. Was I simply too worn out after arriving in sickbay only to find that I had failed everyone?

The room felt strangely humid, and sweat trickled down my face. The oppressive heat wore me down even further. I was exhausted. In that moment, I couldn't even find the strength to look at Harry's face. Tentatively, I reached for his hand and found that he was still warm. If I didn't look up, I could pretend that he was just resting— that my love's impossibly good heart was still beating.

I didn't hear anyone approach before a hand clasped my shoulder and shook me firmly.

"Talia," Harry said from behind me, and every muscle in my body tensed. When I turned towards the sound of his voice, I saw nothing— not Harry, not sickbay, just black.

"Talia, wake up," his voice called again.

For a brief moment, I felt like I had been disembodied. Then, I registered my tight throat, my runny nose, and a great deal of moisture on my face and soaked into the pillow beneath my head. My eyes snapped open as I rolled onto my back and, although my vision was blurry, I could make out a man's form silhouetted against the dim night lights of our bedroom on _Voyager_. "Harry?"

"I'm here, love," he murmured.

Slowly, reality began to settle in. How many more nights would I wake up feeling the same horrible dread tearing at my soul? I had not failed my mission, not at all. In fact, it had been a success, even better than any of us could have hoped. Harry's was one of the more severe injuries— having been shot in the arm so badly that he needed a biosynthetic replacement— but he pulled through both surgeries just fine.

Despite our victory, the mission had left us both torn up. If I wasn't having a nightmare about losing him on that mission, then he was having one about the mission itself.

Yet Harry still focused his worry on me. His hand moved to my face, drying every the tear. Then, it went to my forehead, brushing my hair out of my face. As we carefully settled back into bed, he drew me close and pressed his lips to the back of my neck, reassuring me that he was real.

"I'm right here, _ja'Talia_ ," he said as he lulled me back to sleep. "It's alright. It was only a dream."

* * *

"Deep breaths, Mister Kim," Dr. Schmullis reminded my husband, doing his best to keep his voice in soothing tones. He was standing to the left of Harry's biobed as he guided his patient through one in a routine of physical therapy exercises. "Press down on my arm as hard as you can."

I stood on his right side, fingers laced with his uninjured hand, providing him with my physical and moral support. Quietly, although I generally avoided therapizing my husband for ethical reasons, I couldn't help but keep an observant eye on his psychological condition.

For the most part, he was handling the situation incredibly well. Within a couple of months, he would be done with physical therapy and we could get back to our old gym routine. He would need to rebuild the muscles in that particular arm back up to where he had been, of course, but it would function normally. The loss of a few weeks of work and play was something he seemed to easily roll off his shoulder, but it wasn't his physical injury that tore at him.

Lyndsay Ballard was dead.

She had been in Harry's combat unit, tasked with taking control of the engine room. While Ayala and three of his team secured a group of the _Solassat's_ engineering officers, two Krenim guards snuck in from an access tube just outside their line of sight. Lyndsay spotted one as he took aim at an exposed energy conduit near Mike's location and threw herself in between them, catching his disruptor beam in her chest as she fired at him. The second guard got off one shot— the shot that would have killed Harry but for his quick reaction to Lyndsay's shouted warning— before Mike took him out.

Lyndsay made it all the way to _Voyager's_ sickbay before she died, where the screaming of her flatlined heart monitor was accompanied by the sound of me loudly sobbing my husband's name.

Schmullis had emerged shortly after, consoling me with the knowledge that Harry was still in surgery. I refused to go back to my quarters to wait for word on his condition, even as the adrenaline bled all remaining energy out of my body and left me slumped against Chakotay's chest. With Schmullis' permission, my friend guided me to an open cot and took up the floor space beside me.

I was asleep almost instantly.

When I woke up, Chakotay was gone, and Tom was dozing there instead. Harry was out of surgery. My beloved would live.

Across the room, Tal Celes quietly wept over Lyndsay's body.

Three days later, we held the funeral. Harry struggled to get through his stories of their many exploits as best friends together at the academy, of how much she inspired him, and of how he still couldn't accept the strange absence of her laughter all around the ship.

Celes remained quiet, sharing no stories or sentiments of her own. When the rest of the crew had finished, and she finally opened her mouth to speak, the sounds were ones that no translator could have put into Standard. The words she sang were more like ineffable verbalizations of grief.

Yet, I knew them better than I knew myself, and so I picked up the ancient tune of the Bajoran death chant along with her. A few seconds later, Tabor joined as well, quickly followed by Gerron. After maybe seven repetitions, Celes' voice grew tired and faded into silence, so we allowed ours to, as well.

" _Qapla_ '," I murmured quietly over our fallen comrade. Then, Captain Janeway called us to attention for the release of her pod into space.

Even in death, she was victorious.

Captain Janeway's actions on behalf of the former Maquis under her command had gone far in bringing the crews back together, but Lyndsay's final act had solidified our reunion. No one asked her to give her life for Mike's team. No one would have faulted her for simply shooting the guard rather than throwing herself in front of him. But, had she not done what she did, we would have been mourning Mike and his team instead. We probably would have been mourning for Harry, as well.

It ate my husband alive.

Yet, a full week after Lyndsay's funeral, Harry and I sat for the day's physical therapy session and forced our minds to focus on a much happier occasion that was to come after dinner; it was Alixia's first birthday, her coming of age into adulthood.

When Harry and I left _Voyager_ to take the _Equinox_ after Annorax, Alixia had been on the cusp of completing her primary schooling. It was truly an incredible thing to see how rapidly Ocampan childhood development moved.

Alixia had grown into a truly beautiful young woman. She looked very much like her mother— long blonde hair, soft features, petite frame. But, even with the radical genetic alterations Kes had needed to do to make her almost completely Ocampan, there was no missing the flourishes of Neelix in her appearance. Her eyes were piercingly yellow, though more gold in tone than her father's. Although her bone structure and hair growth patterns were very much like Kes', the fair skin framing her face and neck was dusted with sunshine-yellow coloration and topped with coffee-brown Talaxian freckles.

One week, we mourned death. The next, we celebrated life.

It felt very strange— the clashing of death and life, of grief and hope. Nothing could take away the pain of our loss, yet we knew Lyndsay would have been glad to see the way Alixia's coming of age buoyed our spirits. She was with us still, reminding us to seize the moment, own the day, and laugh in the face of the future by being fully alive in the present. In that way, Lyndsay would never die. She was alive as long as we lived, as long as we kept her memory alive in us. And that was indeed something to celebrate.

 _Qapla_ '. Success. A life well-lived, enriching all of us who continued on.

That night as we settled into bed, Harry reminded me of a promise I had made to him— a baby.

I hadn't forgotten, but I hesitated to agree. Didn't he want to wait for a while— give himself time to breathe and adjust to all these changes? I worried that he needed time to grieve. War was not an easy thing to swallow, nor its senseless human cost.

Still, he insisted. "Let's talk to Kes this week. We can get the process started, at least."

I smiled, stroking his cheek with my fingers. How could he possibly still have that innocent sparkle in his eyes after a hard five months helping the Zahl start a war? We had seen entire cities go up in smoke. He had watched one of his best friends die right in front of him, and he had lost his own arm. I knew of no psyche that was entirely unbreakable. Even the strongest could be felled by trauma, and he had lived through more than one traumatic event.

He dreamed about it at night. Sometimes he saw the war, but mostly he saw Lyndsay. I asked him to rouse me whenever he awoke from a nightmare, and he did. Without hesitation, he allowed others into his pain— relying on me for support, Tom and B'Elanna for friendship, and Captain Janeway for guidance. In quieter moments, he picked out new melodies note-by-note on his keyboard with one strong hand, painstakingly composing his feelings into music that he would be able to perfect and play by clarinet once he regained the full use of his limbs.

War had not killed his spirit the way I feared it would— the same way it had devastated mine. He was unfailingly positive, still holding to hope. So, I decided not to let my worry for him stand in the way. His resilience was second to none.

"Okay," I said. "I'll schedule an appointment."

And so the cycle of life began again, rising from the ashes of our broken hearts as we took a collective breath and pressed into it. In the end, that was all anyone can really do— lean into the pain, and make something good out of it. Life carried on no matter what.

* * *

In gratitude for our services, Queen Nessav insisted upon us docking _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ in her shipyards, and taking some much-needed shore leave while her own engineers conducted repairs for us. Captain Janeway, who would have normally been rather antsy to get back on course considering how little forward progress we had made over the past year, was surprisingly in favor of it. Although she claimed that Starfleet had sent her orders to remain for a few weeks to help oversee the transition of the Krenim government, another reason was made known to us a few days after Alixia's birthday.

She and Chakotay were making their living arrangement— and their relationship— official.

They called Tuvok and me into her ready room to inform us, looking every bit the immaculate professionals even as they sat side-by-side on the couch. "I need to know that no matter what happens," Janeway said, "the crew will come first. Nothing will compromise our mission home. So, Chakotay and I have come up with an idea to ensure that our personal relationship does not interfere with our duty. I'd like to write a new command protocol. Should you agree that one or both of us has been emotionally compromised in some way that interferes with our ability to command, you will have the authority to relieve us of duty and take command of _Voyager_ in our stead. Does this sound reasonable to you?"

Tuvok nodded. "Indeed. A very wise precaution."

I stifled a smile. "Agreed."

Janeway nodded. "Good. Commander Chakotay will have a draft ready for your approval first thing tomorrow morning. After that, we can present it to the rest of the senior staff and to Captain Ransom."

"There's another reason we called you both here," Chakotay added. "We wanted to ask if you would be willing to serve as our attendants. Tuvok, you would be Kathryn's; and Talia, you would be mine."

At his words, I gave up trying to hold back the grin spreading across my face. "You can count on me."

"I would be honored," Tuvok said. "May I presume that Captain Ransom will serve as the officiant?"

"He will," Chakotay confirmed.

"Very well. Allow me to offer my congratulations on your engagement."

Janeway smiled. "Thank you, Tuvok."

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Captain?"

"No, Tuvok, you're dismissed. Talia, if you'll stay behind for a minute, please." After the doors hissed shut behind Tuvok, Janeway looked at me with mischief in her eyes and a quirky smile. "When my assistant reported for duty this morning, she could hardly contain her excitement."

I frowned, unsure of why she was telling me this.

"I asked Miss Wildman what she was so excited for," Janeway continued, "but she insisted that she couldn't say. When I asked her why not, and she claimed doctor-patient confidentiality."

I laughed. Naomi must have overheard Harry and I talking with Kes the other day.

The command team exchanged looks. "Looks like your hunch was right, Kathryn," Chakotay said with a dimpled smile.

"I guess so," Janeway said. "It seems that we have very good timing."

"It does," he agreed. "Like it was meant to be."

I eyed them suspiciously. "Captain?"

They both turned their gazes back to me. "With Chakotay permanently relinquishing his own quarters and moving into mine," Janeway said, "we had a decision to make. It wouldn't be tactically sound to have guest quarters on the same deck as command personnel, so it seems that the most reasonable thing to do is to move our third officer up to deck three. That is, if you and Harry can find something to do with all of that extra space."

"I, um—" I chuckled. Nothing got past the captain, did it? "Yes, Captain, I think we can figure something out."

She smiled. "Good. And you'll be glad to know that the sound-proofing is exponentially better on deck three than it is in most crew quarters."

" _I'll_ be glad?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or _you'll_ be?"

"Well," Chakotay said, "what sounds do you expect the barrier to be absorbing?"

I dodged his question. "What exactly is the decibel absorption limit on three?"

"Oh, it's very good," Janeway said, waggling her eyebrows.

Chakotay nodded. "Yes, strong enough to absorb the cries of a screaming infant, don't you think, Kathryn?"

"Without a doubt," she agreed.

I sighed. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Don't worry, Commander," Janeway reassured me. "Your secret's safe with us. The quarters are already cleaned and, of course, furnished. You can move in as soon as you are ready."

"Thank you, Captain."

* * *

 _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ remained at the Kyana shipyards for another two weeks more, during which time Kathryn and Chakotay held their ceremony and were gifted a luxury honeymoon by Queen Nessav. Meanwhile, Krenim engineering teams got our two ships back into top shape, even going so far as to overhaul and upgrade several of the ships' systems for us. By the time everything was done, both vessels almost seemed to be brand new.

Four days before we were set to leave Kyana Prime and resume course for Earth, I found myself wondering the corridors of _Voyager_ , much like I had done in restless times on the _Equinox_. Thinking that I might find Annika hard at work integrating all of the star charts she had acquired from the Krenim and Srivani cartographers, I made my way to the astrometrics lab.

Indeed, that's where she was.

"You know, you still have three days of leave yet to enjoy," I teased as I walked over to stand beside her at the large half-circle console towards the forward section of the room.

"Enjoyment is irrelevant," she said, not looking up from her work. "There is much to be done."

"So I take it you're coming with us, then?"

"That is correct."

"For good?" I asked. "Or just for now?"

"I have not yet decided if I wish to return to Earth. However, the prospect of returning to the collective is… unsettling."

A flicker of hope ignited in my soul. "Oh? Why is that?"

Her hands paused on the console as she absorbed my question. Clearly, by the look on her face, she wanted to be irritated with me for interrupting her work. Yet, she could not quite achieve that emotion.

Another, more powerful, mix of emotions wrenched her attention away from star charts. For a long while, she stared past the spacial grids laid out on the console before her as she searched her soul for an answer to give me. Then, with the purse of her lips, she pivoted her lean body towards me. Though Annika easily dwarfed me with her height, and held her posture with her usual Borg perfection, her eyes softened to convey the very human emotional conflict she felt within.

"I do not know how to describe it, Commander," she admitted softly. "I do not perceive myself to be Terran, nor do I feel a strong inclination to become Terran. Yet, neither do I perceive myself to be Borg. I am simply Annika of _Voyager_. I have accepted that I can choose another collective in the future, but for now, _Voyager_ is my collective."

Nothing could have stopped the grin that overtook my features, though I would not have dreamed of hiding my joy. A year ago, she had been a drone, unquestioningly loyal to the will of the collective, to the point of breaking our agreement and delivering us to the Borg for assimilation. Somehow, even though it had come against her will, and even though she had spent the last five months staring the worst of human imperfection in the face, she still wanted to remain within our crew.

"I can't say how happy I am to hear that," I said.

She lifted her eyebrow and quipped, "It is reassuring to know that I am not the only one who is at a loss for sufficient language to describe my current emotional state."

I chuckled. "Trust me, it happens all the time."

Just then, my combadge chirped. "Janeway to Lieutenant Commander Eelo."

I tapped the delta on my chest. "Go ahead."

"I have just received a transmission from Minister Elentia, and I have called an emergency meeting of the senior staff. I need you to report to the briefing room in thirty minutes."

"Aye, Captain."

"I'll need any information I can get about the region just beyond Krenim space. Have Crewman Hanson prepare an integrated star chart and analysis on any possible dangers we might encounter."

I glanced at Annika, who answered for herself. "Captain, I am presently integrating the charts for that region. If you can be more specific as to our intended destination, I will be able to provide more details in my report."

"Of course, Crewman," Janeway said. "The ambassador has received word from the Turei communications network that a gentleman, named Arturis, is waiting to meet us at a trading outpost about five light-years past the Krenim border. I'm sending the coordinates to astrometrics now. I would like to leave as soon as possible."

"Cutting shore leave short, Captian?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so, Commander, but this is important. He claims to have found the female caretaker."


	15. Lamb to the Slaughter

**Lamb to the Slaughter**

* * *

By the time our extended shore leave was over, I was quite happy to return to my own office after so long out of it. My backlogged license renewal documentation had been accepted and recognized by the powers at home, and my annual psychiatric workup with Dr. Schmullis came back clean, so Captain Janeway allowed me to be fully reinstated to duty.

I settled eagerly into my first counseling assignment in a year— crew evaluations. I would be starting with the intake evaluations for the _Equinox_ crew. Captain Ransom and Lieutenant Commander Burke both insisted that they be put off until last and, although it tended to be that way with command officers, I got the feeling that they wanted to observe me in action before they decided how much they wanted to lean on my psychological training.

So, I began with Lieutenant Marla Gilmore instead.

Marla Gilmore was a soft-spoken but brilliant Terran engineer in her mid-thirties with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a petite frame. She had inherited the Chief of Engineering position early on during the _Equinox's_ trip through the Delta Quadrant after the two engineers ranking above her were killed in the line of duty. Although she filled the position well enough, department leadership was not something she wanted for herself.

The trials that the quadrant had put the _Equinox_ crew through had been particularly hard on her. _Equinox_ was a very small ship, and more than once had become a death trap for many of the crew. More than that, it had limited recreational facilities and no holodecks. It was a true testament to the resilience of the human spirit that the surviving crew had carried on as well as they did.

Even so, Marla's psychological record— entered by the _Equinox's_ Chief Medical Officer, Nurse Kelara Peltem— included a series of entries about the claustrophobic attacks she had begun having two years into their journey. Considering the fact that she actually was, quite literally, enclosed in a small ship from which there was no escape, I was unsurprised at such a development. It was not, however, a condition on its own.

Before she ever stepped foot in my office, I suspected strongly that Marla might suffer from an anxiety disorder simply from the various notes in her record prior to the emergence of her claustrophobic episodes. It troubled me that she had never been assessed for anxiety before, but she was very practiced in the art of going unnoticed. I made a note at the top of her file not to let her slip through my fingers the way she had slipped through everyone else's.

As usual, I stacked my mental health assessments towards the beginning of the session so that there would be time to simply talk afterward. Neither one of us was surprised when the test confirmed my suspicion about her condition.

With that taken care of, I set down the PADD I had been using and asked my first question. "What are your thoughts on the current arrangement between _Equinox_ and _Voyager_?"

Marla blinked at me, shock registering very clearly on her face. "My— You— Don't you want to talk about my anxiety?"

"Is that what _you_ want to talk about, Marla?"

The woman shook her head, blonde hair swishing over rigid, gold-clad shoulders.

"What would you like to talk about today?"

Marla cast her gaze downward, staring at the slender, calloused fingers that were twisted in her lap. I sat silently, waiting for her to gather the courage to speak.

"I'm thinking about putting in for a transfer," she finally said, still not looking up. "But, it would mean someone from _Voyager_ would have to take over as chief engineer on the _Equinox_. I just—" She paused as her eyes met mine, flashing with a fierce determination to share feelings she had been forced to bury for far too long. "I can't do it anymore. It was so wonderful, being on _Voyager_ while you and the other Maquis had _Equinox_. There's so much space here. Space to breathe. I can crawl into the Jeffries tubes without suffocating. Although—" Her eyes shifted to the wall. "—it won't be the same, without Lynd— uh, Ensign Ballard."

"It's alright. Lyndsay always did prefer to be called by her given name. She wasn't big on title and formality. I know you worked closely together while we were away."

"She reminded me so much of my baby sister," Marla murmured. "I wish there was something I could do for Celes. Have you lost anyone you love, Counselor?"

The thought to correct how she addressed me crossed my mind like a reflex, but I restrained it. Formality seemed to be a comfort to her with me; to rip that away, too, would not help either of us. "I have lost loved ones," I said, "many times."

"What did you want people to say to you?"

"For someone that close to me, absolutely nothing. What I wanted from others in times like those was much more simple; just presence. Knowing that they wouldn't try to put themselves in the void my loss left behind, but also that beyond the void was company. That was everything to me."

* * *

Counselor's Log, supplemental.

We have met with the gentleman named Arturis, who offered to take us to the place where the Caretaker's former mate now lives. The coordinates are about five hundred light-years away, in a vast area of empty space that local species refer to as ' _the void_.' Arturis' ship is equipped with a highly advanced propulsion technology called quantum slipstream drive, which allows his vessel to travel at transwarp. He wants us to follow him into the void to meet with the Nacene, named Susperia.

Naturally, Captain Janeway is cautious.

* * *

"Has anyone noticed anything suspicious about Mister Arturis during his visit?" Janeway had yet to take her seat at the conference table. She stood at the forward of the room— her back turned to the staff who were assembled for the morning briefing— and stared out the viewport at the station where we had docked the day before.

Kes and I had both been asked to keep an eye on our new acquaintance, but we let Tuvok answer first. "His claims do appear to be sound, Captain."

 _"_ I couldn't enter his mind, Captain," Kes said. "But it didn't feel like he was actively resisting me. It's more like, he has different neurology. My guess is that his species has evolved to be naturally resistant to telepathy."

"Nurse Peltem made the same observation," Captain Ransom said, having sent his Betazoid CMO to _Voyager_ the previous day to assist with Kes' physical examination of Arturis.

"As did Lon Suder," I added. "He did say that he had a bad feeling about the man, but he couldn't tell me why. He saw no deceit in Arturis' eyes or manner."

"Suder doesn't exactly have the most optimistic outlook on people," Chakotay muttered.

"Well, we can't all be optimists," I retorted. "Especially in this situation. We're not exactly unbiased about the possibilities here."

"I concur," Tuvok said. "I see no logical reason not to proceed, but we should do so with caution."

Janeway sighed, still staring out of the viewport.

"What about this quantum slipstream drive?" Captain Ransom asked. "What do we know about it?"

B'Elanna perked up. "I looked at the specs and shared notes with Lieutenant Gilmore. It scraps matter anti-matter propulsion entirely, instead using the ship's main deflector to pierce through space into subspace. It's like taking a boat down a fast-running river instead of walking to get where you want to go."

"The question is," Janeway said, sounding as if she were talking to herself rather than to the room, "can _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ climb into the boat and hitch a ride without sinking it?"

"In theory," Tom replied. "At the moment, I doubt either ship would last long under the quantum stresses, but Arturis has offered to help us make any necessary modifications."

"It will take some careful calculations, Captain," Harry said, "but I think it will work."

"Talia," Chakotay interjected, pulling my attention to him, "what did astrometrics find out about this region— the void, you said?"

I nodded. "Yes, that's what Arturis and locals on the station called it. Meg Delaney and I were able to trade for several gigaquads of information about the region, including maps of the space all around it. We talked to everyone we could, and I can show you a couple of different routes around it, but it seems that nobody has gone all the way through it. There's just—" I shook my head and shrugged. "—nothing. No stars, no planets, no people, no communications buoys. Not for twenty-five hundred light-years. Other than the Ocampa settlement Arturis told us about, of course."

The entire conference room fell into an eerie, uneasy silence.

"If there's nothing else?" Chakotay asked.

No one spoke up.

Finally, Janeway pivoted towards the table, carefully examining every face before her. They awaited her usual decisive orders, but after a long pause all she said was, "Dismissed."

I stood to leave, but Captain Janeway called my name and asked me to stay behind. Chakotay, Tuvok, Ransom, and Burke had remained in their seats. Slowly, I sat back down.

Once the doors hissed shut behind the exiting crew, Janeway took her seat and folded her hands on the conference table. "The way I see it, we have three options. Follow Arturis into the void, drag our feet to play for more time, or turn down his offer and plot a safe course around the region where we can stay within range of the Turei communications network. Thoughts?"

"Since when have we ever played it safe?" Chakotay quipped, attempting to ease the tension.

"I agree," Ransom said, clearly missing the joke. "A few modifications and we'll meet the creature who can send us home. I don't think we can afford to pass up this opportunity."

"What if he's lying?" I asked.

"There's two of us, and only one of him. To me, he doesn't pose much of a threat."

"His vessel, though small, is technologically superior to both of ours," Tuvok said. "And his intellectual capacity is more highly evolved than any humanoid species we have yet encountered. It would be unwise to presume we could defeat him in a confrontation."

"I agree," Janeway said. "And I'm not about to simply assume that Susperia will help us, even if Mister Arturis is telling the truth. We have no idea what she's like, or why she brought Ocampa all the way out here."

"Or what those Ocampa are capable of," I pointed out. "If they have been able to tap into their repressed psionic abilities all these years, and develop them, who knows what they could do?"

Ransom bristled. "So, what? You're just going to tuck tail and run away? Accept another sixty years out here? Because I sure as hell won't."

I bit my tongue.

"You agreed to operate under Starfleet protocol for the remainder of this journey, Captain," Janeway snapped, "no matter how long it takes. I will take your view into consideration, but the final decision rests with me."

"What I agreed to, _Captain_ ," Ransom growled, "was a three-month science mission in the Beta Quadrant. I never agreed to a lifetime out here, and I promised my people that I would do whatever it took to get them home."

Janeway's eyes narrowed at him. "I made the same promise to my crew. But if I fail to consider all of the possibilities, we could end up dead in the middle of a void in the Delta Quadrant rather than safe at home."

Chakotay and I exchanged a look.

Of course Captain Janeway would ultimately decide to go with Arturis. There was no way she would turn down the chance to get back to Earth, even if it was risky— perhaps especially because it was risky. Kathryn Janeway thrived on risk. Yet, she was also wise enough to know that we would need to have a plan in place if Arturis or Susperia turned out to be less benevolent than they appeared to be on the surface.

At the moment, however, Ransom's attitude seemed to make Janeway want to dig in her heels. Clearly, the man irritated her; she disapproved of his decisions and disliked his command style. But there was more behind her behavior than this one disagreement. Something was bothering her— deeply— and reverting her to obstinacy.

Captain Ransom opened his mouth, but I spoke up first, cutting him off before he could make things worse for everyone. "Perhaps, we should recess. Take a little more time to think about this."

Chakotay quickly jumped to my defense. "It will take a while to make the calculations for the jump to slipstream; we could have Tom, Harry, and B'Elanna get started on that without needing to come to a decision yet."

Tuvok also voiced his support by adding, "Even if we do not accompany Mister Arturis into ' _the void_ ,' we may still benefit from studying his slipstream technology more closely. In time, perhaps we could attempt to replicate it ourselves."

The room fell silent and I held my breath until, after exchanging a look with Ransom, Captain Janeway declared our meeting adjourned.

The next morning, she announced her decision. We were going into the void.

* * *

The Ocampa colony was massive.

Tucked away in the middle of nowhere, with no star systems and no apparent opportunities for life, Susperia and her followers had built an artificial city that consisted of several hundred interconnected stations housing two and a half million people. Where the materials had come from, and what their source of energy was, we could not tell. Clearly, their abilities far outstripped our own.

If anyone could get us home, it was them.

The first people to meet with us was a group of three Ocampa representatives who transported onto _Voyager._ They were led by Gadris, an elfin woman with dark bronze skin and long black hair that cascaded down her shoulders and spilled over a deep blue robe. "Welcome to Uressa, Federation Starfleet Voyagers," she greeted as she and her two aides stepped off of the transporter pad. "We have greatly anticipated your arrival."

"It is our pleasure to welcome you to _Voyager_ , Minister Gadris," Captain Janeway said. "Allow me to introduce our Chief of Security Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, our fleet counselor Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia, and one of our top medical personnel, Doctor Kes."

Gadris' smile broadened as she immediately moved to greet Kes. "Yes, we have been most anxious to meet you, Kes."

Kes returned the minister's dazzling smile. "And I to meet you, Minister. You have built quite an impressive home here, especially in such a desolate part of space."

"You will learn all about it when you meet Susperia. But first," she turned to face the captain, "we want to learn more of your ships and crews."

* * *

"Talia."

A groan escaped my lips as my mind slipped out of its pleasant, amniotic existence and into waking. My hand found my face, sliding over the contours of my brow, my nasal ridges, my cheek, my ear, my temple.

Headache. I had a headache. _Fuck_. It was not a good day to be waking up with a headache. I had an important job to do. It was the day we were meant to meet Susperia and—

"Talia. Commander, wake up."

I snapped my eyes open and found myself staring into Alixia's, hovering just centimeters away from my face. I frowned and muttered something that was probably incoherent as I braced my hands on the bed—

No. It wasn't my bed beneath me. It wasn't a bed at all. I was laying on a flat metal floor.

I flicked my eyes about the room to take in my surroundings. It was a holding cell. Why was I in a holding cell? And with Kes and Neelix's daughter, of all people?

"Alixia?" I asked as I began to rise into a sitting position. "What—" I gasped and grimaced at the sudden stab of pain that sliced through my temples at the shifting blood flow in my body.

Alixia's hands reflexively reached out to steady me. "Are you hurt?"

"Feels like it," I said, running fingers over my temples as I searched for the source. No blood, no lacerations, no bumps. Not even a tender spot. ' _What the hell?'_ I thought.

 _'She took us_ ,' Alixia said, but she hadn't spoken aloud.

"Didn't Tuvok already teach you how to refrain from probing the minds of others?"

Instantly, I regretted my hostility. Alixia was young— younger than Kes had been when we first met her. More than that, she was an anomaly. Alixia had been genetically engineered because Ocampan physiology was too different to safely reproduce with other humanoids.

Above all, she had not yet received any training in how to handle the life of a Starfleet officer, nor had she ever before experienced captivity. She had witnessed adversity, and had certainly endured emotional strain growing up during what the crew had affectionately termed ' _the year of hell_ ,' but that was a different kind of experience altogether from military operations.

She deserved to be given some slack.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, dropping her eyes to the floor. "My psionic abilities— they're stronger here. Harder to control. I don't know why."

Finally— painfully— I pulled myself upright. I grasped her arms firmly, and willed her to look at me. "It's okay, Alixia. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm disoriented and in pain, but that's no excuse. You don't have to apologize to me. Just tell me what's going on. I need to know everything that you know."

Her golden eyes met mine, stunning and pained. "The Nacene, Susperia. She took us from _Voyager_ while we slept. Brought us here. One by one, you were brought out to meet her—"

"Who, Alixia?" I demanded. "Who else did she take?"

"You, me, Mom, and Crewman Hansen."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

I swallowed hard. "You said we had been taken one by one. What happened?"

"They took Mom first, and never brought her back. They took you, but you did come back. Then, they took Crewman Hansen."

"And she has yet to come back," I observed.

 _'That's_ _right_ ,' she thought as she nodded.

"How long ago?"

"Maybe an hour? I'm not sure. I'm sorry—"

I shook her, perhaps a bit too hard, but I needed to snap her out of the anxiety she was slipping into. "Stop it," I demanded loudly, firmly.

How different the techniques of counselors and soldiers were.

"Alixia, you can't go down that road. I need you with me. I need your mind clear and focused on the present. After we get out of this, then you can feel sorry for yourself. Do you understand?"

"But we can't," she choked out with a sob as tears filled her eyes. "They're gone."

"Who, Alixia? Who's gone?"

" _Voyager_ ," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Did Susperia tell you that?"

"She didn't have to. I know. I feel it, like part of me is missing. And… I felt him."

My brow furrowed. "Him? Him who?"

"That man, the alien who brought us here."

"Arturis?"

 _'Yes_.'

"You— you _felt_ him? How? No one else could penetrate his mind! Not your mother, not Ransom's Chief Medical Officer…"

 _'I don't know.'_

"How long have you been able to feel him?"

"Only after we were brought here." Her tears were drying up and she was beginning to regain control of herself.

Good.

"What did you feel from him?"

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by a powerfully intense mix of emotions— grief, anger, emptiness, injustice, rage. And then, I knew what had happened, just as she did.

Arturis had delivered us to Susperia. Susperia took what she needed from us— a few specific people. And now the rest of the crews were helplessly hurtling through a slipstream corridor towards Arturis' home planet.

A planet that had recently been annexed by the Borg.

 _'Un'Bentel.'_

"Oh my," came a familiar, patronizing voice from the other side of the holding cell. My eyes immediately tracked its source and found Q leaning casually against the wall. He grinned with amusement. "You _are_ in a real pickle now."


	16. Children of the Prophets

**Children of the Prophets**

* * *

As soon as Q flashed me that smug, shit-eating grin, I felt a surge of rage burst through me. Ignoring the pain in my skull, I jumped to my feet and lunged for him, driving my forearm hard against his throat and pinning him to the wall.

"What the _fuck_ have you done, Q?" I shouted, my voice eliciting a high-pitched whine as it reverberated off the cell walls.

He shrugged.

It was vanity to threaten a Q. I knew that. There was, quite literally, nothing I could do that he couldn't counter with a single stray thought. At the moment, I didn't care. If nothing else, he could at least serve as my emotional punching bag while he was around.

"Go on," he said with a sigh, "get it out of your system. No point in me trying to rationalize with you until you can behave in a civilized fashion. That emotional transference is such a troublesome little side effect of the procedure you just went through."

"Fuck you!" I screamed. "As if you're so much better than anyone else. If anything, you're worse! Now fix this, Q, or so help me—"

"You'll do what, Little Eelo? What exactly do you imagine that you can do to me?"

"I—" Frantic, I searched my mind, needing some way to back up my empty threat. Why, why had I said that? It was useless, utterly useless, to think—

Then, it hit me. I _did_ have ammunition against him. I huffed, dropped my arm, and stepped back. "Me? Nothing. There is nothing I can do to you."

He smiled.

I smiled back. "The Prophets, however, will be very upset if you block their path. They are the entire reason we're out here. And they have the Continuum by the balls, don't they? Why else would you be here?"

"How do you know they don't already have what they want?"

"Because they told me what they want, and it includes _Voyager_!"

"They're not the benevolent saviors you imagine them to be," Q said. "Maybe what they really needed was you and a few of your friends out here, and now that they have delivered you to the Nacene and her army, they have no more need of _Voyager_. Poor Kathy. It's such a shame; I rather liked her. Not that they did much better by your mother, mind you."

"Don't act like you knew her," I spat.

He quirked his eyebrows as his lips curled into a smirk. "I _knew_ Fayeni better than you realize."

"Disgusting," I said with a snort. "You know, you Q are supposed to be these timeless, omnipotent god-like creatures, yet you think with your penis as much as every other man."

"So narrow-minded." He sighed. "It is entirely too easy to push your buttons, Little Eelo."

"Don't call me that."

"Fine."

"Think what you want. I don't care. But, I do care that you worked with her on something no one else seems to know about— something that suddenly seemed to stop mattering after only three visits. If you're having problems with the Prophets, well, I can't help but think that must have caused Marnah to have a problem with you."

"She wasn't as loyal to the Prophets as you think, _Eelo_."

His assertion gave me pause, but I shook it off quickly. Crossing my arms, I shot him the coldest look I could muster and forced myself not to let him sidetrack me from a much more pressing issue. "I don't have time for this. _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ are hurtling towards Borg space as we speak, and clearly that can't be allowed to happen. So, why are you here, Q?"

"He's here to see for himself if the chosen child of the Prophets can do all that he fears she can do," came a silky female voice from the doorway.

When I turned to see the source of that voice, I realized we were joined by the most captivating humanoid I had ever laid eyes on. Although she had the delicate facial bone structure common to the Ocama, she was taller and curvier than Ocampa women tended to be. The tips of her pointed ears peeked out from long, wavy hair that tumbled down her shoulders and breasts like a waterfall made of gold. A sheer blue dress crossed over one shoulder but left the other bare, and dark brown skin glistened beneath. Her eyes were also blue— a perfect match to the dress. She was too much to take in all at once, and I gaped like an idiot at the sight.

"Susperia," Alixia murmured.

The goddess-woman nodded. "Yes, my child."

I swallowed hard. "What exactly is it that you two think I'm going to do?"

Q laughed. "Not one single thing, dear. _You_ are not a child of the Prophets, although you did carry one for quite a while."

I frowned. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't" Q snapped. "You, the chosen one! Don't be absurd, Eelo. For having such an affinity for the Bajoran people, the Prophets don't put much faith in your ability to do their dirty work. And why would they? You're such a simple-minded people. No. Yet again, they have chosen to intervene with the birth of an outsider. This time, however, they have created something much more powerful, and she is standing right beside you."

Alixia's eyes went wide. "M-me?"

"You are strong of mind as your mother," Susperia said, "and strong of body as your father. But there is another element within you that came not from them, and that enhances what they have given you. It is time you embrace it. This is why you are here. If you wish to save your vessels, it is you who must do so."

"How?"

Susperia did not reply aloud, but from the looks on both of the women's faces, I decided that they must be conversing telepathically.

I bit my tongue and balled my hands into fists, trembling with rage. I hated being manipulated, being used. None of these higher beings deserved the power they wielded. Not one.

"Anger will do you no favors here, Eelo," Q said.

" _Kasvak_." I spat the insult at Q.

He laughed. "You speak the truth, _Eelo'asmara_."

My breath caught, both at his oddly gentle tone and at how he addressed me. ' _Head of the Eelo house,'_ he had called me. It wasn't right, and he knew it.

" _Ah'ri Kori'asmara_ ," I murmured, shaking my head.

In our first batch of letters from home, Aradne had asked me if I wished for her to transfer the title to me, but I turned her down. It was useless. I was never going to be around to fulfill my duties, ceremonial as they may be. Besides, I was living a risky life and could likely be killed in the line of duty. The Eelo family needed stability, and it could only come from her.

The truth, however, was that I simply did not want it anymore. I had lost faith in Bajor. Or, perhaps I had lost faith in myself.

"Yes you are," Q said.

Suddenly, I had no desire to argue with him. I had learned much about myself since encountering the Krenim, about how strong of a leader I could actually be.

How like my mother.

 _Remember_ _who_ _you_ _are_ , she had whispered to me in a vision. Technically, those had been the Prophet's words, but they may as well have come from her. She was my mother still, no matter what. She was born of Bajor, and I was born of her.

" _Aka rana Bajoryan_ ," I murmured.

"Yes, you are," he again affirmed once again. "You may yet be the future of Bajor, _if_ you can expand your mind."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't." He shrugged. "But the Prophets do. The more we immortals can agree with each other— or at least avoid letting spats turn into wars— the better it is for the cosmos."

I stared at the man— the being— next to me. _If_ I could expand my mind. What did that even mean? Without asking, I knew it wasn't a question he would answer for me, so I chose a different one. "Is it important to know exactly how Alixia was made to carry the Prophet?"

"She doesn't carry a Prophet, Eelo. That is your job."

"Was," I corrected.

"Was, is, and will be. But that is not what matters now." He gestured to Susperia and Alixia. "Watch."

Following his gaze, I realized for the first time that they were both glowing. Their bodies wavered like an old holoimage, as if fluctuating in and out of phase with the physical world.

"Space and time and thought are not the separate things you believe them to be, Eelo," he ruminated aloud, and I set that concept firmly into my memory. I would need to ponder it later, after Alixia brought _Voyager_ back— which I felt absolutely sure, somehow, that she would do.

"If she is a child of the Prophets, does that mean that she… _is_ a Prophet?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"' _Child of the Prophets_ ' is a figure of speech. No, she is not one of the beings you call 'Prophets.' She is something entirely unique. We hoped it would never come to this, that the issue would work itself out in time, but the Continuum has begrudgingly decided to support the strategy that the Prophets have implemented."

"The issue?" I looked back to him. "What issue?"

Q did not meet my eyes, but instead continued to watch the scene before us.

Alixia gasped, and her mind cried out so loud I felt like I had hear it with my ears. ' _I have them! They're here. They're safe.'_

"You will know soon enough," Q finally said. Then he sighed and looked upon me with resignation. "Too soon."

* * *

The very next thing I remembered was waking up on _Voyager_ , in the last place I had been before we were taken onto Susperia's station— in my own bed.

"The time is 0600," the computer announced.

Next to me, Harry stirred and groaned.

"Computer, what's the current stardate?" I asked.

"The stardate is 52050.0."

I had been returned to the moment Susperia took me away. Would anyone else remember anything that happened?

At the sound of my voice, Harry awoke. "Talia?"

I grabbed him by the sides of his face and dragged his lips to mine. He was right there with me, as if nothing had happened. He was not a Borg drone. _Voyager_ and _Equinox_ were safe, and I was home.

I never did get the chance to explain myself to Harry. Within moments, Captain Janeway was calling all senior staff to the morning briefing early to discuss what the hell was going on. Everyone remembered living out almost an entire day that, according to the chronometer, never actually happened.

We were still 500 light-years deep into a 2500 light-year trip through the void, but the Ocampa colony had mysteriously vanished as if it had never been there. There was also no sign of Arturis or his ship. It was almost as if the whole thing had been little more than a collective vision we had somehow shared.

Almost.


	17. Sharp Edges

**Sharp Edges**

 _VOY 5x01 "Night"; VOY novel "Mosaic"_

CW: Some discussion of past physical and sexual violence

* * *

Kathryn Janeway was unyieldingly stubborn, and determined that she did not need medication or therapy because she was not sick. Although she displayed symptoms of moderately severe clinical depression, I knew that I had to tread carefully. Attempting to push her into treatments she did not believe she needed would only make her more resistant, and it could cost the influence that I did have on her.

Because of the subtle strategy I opted to employ, Kathryn accepted what little I did ask of her. For an hour twice a week, she allowed me into her quarters. During that time, she would put away the dull reports she tried to occupy her mind with; we would nurse cups of coffee and stare silently out of the viewport, hoping for a dot of starlight to appear somewhere in the midst of the endless, inky black.

But no stars ever came.

* * *

Twelve weeks into our trip across the void, I found out that I was pregnant.

It showed up on Kes' tricorder during her initial scan of me at the start of my weekly fertility check-up. Although her smile was as warm and hopeful as always, I was afraid to accept her optimism until after she had run multiple tests on the child. Getting pregnant was only part of the battle; the likelihood of miscarriage due to genetic abnormalities was quite high for inter-species pregnancies. It would do me no good to get excited about a prospect that was doomed from the start.

For my sake, Harry remained uncharacteristically reserved throughout the appointment. His hand clung to mine while we waited for test results, the touch speaking to feelings that no language ever could. It felt like an eternity of waiting there in our deep silence, but eventually Kes returned to my bedside.

"Congratulations," she said. "You're going to have a healthy baby boy." Kes helpfully reviewed the results with us, but I could hardly focus on the technicals at that moment. Only one thing mattered at all—our hopes had finally been rewarded.

When she left the room, I pivoted on the biobed so that my legs dangled off to either side of his hips. I was speechless, so I simply stared up into his face and reveled in the exuberant joy there.

As his eyes filled with tears, he threw his arms around me and buried his face in the curve of my neck. "It worked," he gasped. "We're having a baby."

Warm tears soaked into the collar of my uniform, just like my own tears soaked into his. Pulling away slightly, he dragged his wet cheek across the contours of my face until his lips found mine. When we parted, he splayed his hands over my stomach, and we grinned at one another.

"We're having a son," he said.

I nodded, curling my hands around his. "We're having a son."

* * *

My sneezing spells were deeply amusing to the crew at first, but they always seemed to interrupt the morning senior staff briefings. Meanwhile, Chakotay's patience was wearing thinner every day. It wasn't long before Tuvok had convinced him to schedule the meetings for mid-morning through the first stage of my pregnancy.

After receiving a dull litany of status updates from each department head, Chakotay directed the briefing room conversation into decidedly different territory as he paced restlessly behind the captain's empty chair. "Next piece of business: crew morale."

His eyes fixed pointedly on mine, but it was Dr. Schmullis who answered first. "Deteriorating, obviously."

It was not the first time I had felt pressured on that front; my seat had been feeling increasingly hot with each passing day. Tuvok's attention was, predictably, on the doctor, one sharp Vulcan eyebrow upticked at Schmullis' overtly passive-aggressive attitude towards me. Neelix—and I still had no idea why he had been invited to a senior staff meeting—glanced nervously from person to person, landing on me more than the rest. Harry gave me a sympathetic look.

They sought an answer I could not provide.

That was exactly what Chakotay wanted me to do—to break the confidentiality of the one person who was not in attendance, because she had stopped talking to everyone. I was not in the mood to have the same fight again with Chakotay. The truth be told, I was exhausted. Morning spells were beginning to come earlier, rousing me well before my alarm. I had not gotten a full night of sleep in three days.

Eventually, Neelix caught the hint, and he mercifully came to my rescue with a few suggestions on how to boost crew morale. I was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

My relief, however, did not last long.

Taking a deep breath, he plowed into what he had clearly been wanting to say all morning. "One other item, sir. A point of, uh, concern among some of the crew. It's—" Neelix hesitated, and we all knew right then what he was about to say. I braced myself for the blow.

"Spit it out," Chakotay demanded harshly. Too harshly.

"Well, it's the captain," Neelix confessed nervously. "She's been a bit elusive lately."

"Your point?"

"People take comfort in talking to her. When they see the captain's happy, they're happy."

Neelix's honesty emboldened Tom to prod the conversation in his usual tactless way, but not before shooting me a pointed look. "Rumor has it she never leaves her quarters."

At least he had the decency to refrain from pointing out that they were Chakotay's quarters, too. Even so, that fact hung in the air like a thick, poisonous gas. They were conflating the personal and the professional.

"Captain's privilege," Chakotay responded curtly. "She'll come to the bridge if and when she's needed."

"Spare us the bullshit, Chakotay," B'Elanna bit. "You know as well as we do that she's not okay. Our counselor may be bound by protocols and ethics, but surely the captain's husband has some leverage with her."

I cleared my throat.

"She can run this ship from wherever the hell she wants to, Torres," Chakotay snapped back, putting her in her place and the rest of us in ours. He was not about to let anyone forget that he was Janeway's executive officer above all else. With his eyes, he leveled a challenge at the whole staff. "Understood?"

Hushed responses of "yes, sir" were murmured around the table.

"Dismissed."

At his command, everyone else left the room in silence. I stayed right where I was.

"Unless you've changed your mind and decided to tell me what I want to know," he grumbled, funneling the depths of his rage into a glare that fixed on me, "you can leave, too. I know you have work to do."

Folding my hands calmly on the table before me, I sent a firm and unwavering look back his way. "You know I can't discuss my patients without their consent. Husbands are no exception. You also know that I am immune to your death glare, so you might as well drop it and sit with me for a minute."

With a heavy sigh, Chakotay braced his hands on the back of the captain's vacant chair and dropped his head. He looked utterly defeated, weary all the way into the marrow of his bones.

 _There you are_. "Tay," I said gently, "I can't tell you what happens in my sessions with her. But, if I can get your perspective on things, I might be more effective."

He looked up, a mixture of hope and caution in his eyes. He would do anything—anything—to help the woman he loved. At the same time, he still clung to a deep-seated grudge that he'd held against counselors for as long as I had known him. He knew exactly what I was doing, how I was coaxing him to accept my professional services; but I knew that I had the winning hand this time.

For a long moment, we simply stared each other down. Finally, he relented to me with a silent nod. I stood and walked up to him, resting my hand over his and squeezing it firmly. "Today. My office. 1400."

* * *

The strategy for getting Chakotay into my office had been one of subtlety and subtext. For the session itself, I had an entirely different—and unorthodox—method in mind for how to handle him. That afternoon, my strategy was to make him snap at me.

I did not want to fire too soon, though, and so I began the session by simply asking him to tell me what he had noticed about Kathryn's behavior in the weeks since our encounter with Susperia and the Ocampa colony. For a very long time, I said nothing; I just listened to his side of the issue, making mental notes on both members of the command team as he spoke.

It wasn't until his words slowed to a stop, and he was spent, that I implemented my plan.

For a long moment, I let the silence hang. Cocking my head to the side and arranging my features into an expression of appraisal, I examined his countenance carefully. I wanted to make him squirm.

Finally, he shifted ever-so-slightly in his seat, masking his discomfort with a look of impatience. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"You have yet to tell me what's really bothering you," I replied calmly.

"I just told you what's bothering me!" he snarled in frustration.

I had to stifle a smile. Chakotay was on a very short fuse. This was going to be easier than I thought. "You told me about Kathryn's behavior, yes. But that isn't the real problem. You have a splinter."

His brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"A splinter. Something invasive, trapped between the layers of your psyche like a splinter in your hand. You think it's Kathryn causing you pain when you reach out to touch her, but it's not. You have a splinter. You need to dig it out."

"I—What?" he stuttered, confusion and indignation warring within him. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Am I saying _what_ is your fault?"

"This!" Chakotay shouted, gesticulating angrily to accentuate his frustration with me. "Kathryn. Me. This."

"Kathryn? No. But you? You are holding back. You worry about Kathryn, but you're not angry with her. You want to be, but you're not. You're angry with yourself. Why?"

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

I was unrelenting with my invasive questions. "What aren't you telling me?"

He shook his head and stood. "This was a fucking mistake."

"What are you running away from, Chakotay?" I asked as he turned to leave, hoping the risky game I was playing with him would pay off.

Chakotay whipped around to face me once again. "You!" he shouted. "You, and your psychological mind game bullshit. You want to know how I feel? I feel goddamn angry!"

"I never once asked you how you feel."

"No, but that's what you really want to know, isn't it? It's what you all want to know. As if good feelings can make everything suddenly better, no matter how much shit you're stepping in. Of all people, you should know better than that."

"What makes you say that?"

He blinked at me, a bit shocked that I had asked. "You know what I mean."

"Tell me."

His hands clenched into fists. "No."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"Can't?" I prodded. "Or won't?"

"Both."

"Bullshit. Tell me."

"No," he reiterated, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring down at me menacingly. "Because you can't be impartial."

 _Well, he has me there._

"You're right," I conceded gently. "I'm not impartial. I have always wished for another counselor on board for precisely this reason. But I have to wonder, Tay, if we had another counselor available, would you honestly tell them whatever it is you refuse to tell me?"

His head dipped as he let out a heavy sigh. "No, I probably wouldn't."

With a nod, I hummed my approval of his honesty. "Chakotay. I can't promise that whatever you have to say won't hurt me. But I can promise that I will hear it and accept it as just your counselor, not as your subordinate or friend."

Chakotay looked at me with pained eyes. I had missed a significant category of our relationship, the one that we had both tried to erase from our personal ledgers because we refused to admit that it had molded us far more than any other aspect of the connection we shared. He could no longer pretend it wasn't an issue, but he was still trying to protect my ability to.

It was a toxic secret to keep.

With a sigh, I leaned forward towards him, refusing to drop my gaze from his. "I will hear it and accept it as your counselor, not as your ex-lover."

His eyes searched mine for confirmation, and softened as they found it. Only then did he sit back down. It was a long, tense moment before he finally began to speak. "I never stopped having those nightmares about Korma outpost," he said bluntly, watching me carefully for any reaction.

I forced myself to offer none.

"When Seska captured me, I assumed you would insist on a rescue mission, and I just hoped that you wouldn't rebel against Kathryn's order to leave me behind. I was surprised to find out the opposite happened, but I told myself that our relationship had changed and it wasn't fair to hold you to what we used to be for each other.

"When Kathryn and I were infected with that virus, most of me was relieved that you didn't fight Kathryn or Tuvok on their decisions. I wanted you to live your life, not waste it trying to find a cure for us. But then you came back.

"To be honest, after I was captured by Annorax, I had no idea what side you would fall on. Would you push for a rescue mission, or would you believe it was best to leave me behind? The more I considered it in hindsight, the more I realized that you were right four years ago when you said that I never saw the real you. The signs had always been there before, but I ignored them because I didn't want to deal with that possibility. But as Annorax's men interrogated me… I guess it brought some things to mind."

I nodded to let him know I was listening, and gently encouraged him to continue. I had long known that he would eventually have to face his own demons from the mission that haunted both of our dreams. Although I had finally dealt with my own trauma, it was still shaky ground for me. Secretly, I hoped his confession wouldn't trigger the nightmares to return; outwardly, I kept my face neutral and my body language calm.

"I kept thinking back to Korma outpost," he continued. "And what happened after. I kept thinking about the next morning, at the hospital on base, and then how it all changed just a week later."

I drew my eyebrows together, trying to think back. "I don't remember the next morning," I said.

Chakotay looked at me with a mixture of shock and concern. "You don't?"

I shook my head. "I honestly don't remember much of anything from my recovery. What happened at the hospital?"

His hands clenched and unclenched in his lap as a new understanding washed over his face. He sighed and looked down at them, not responding for a long moment. When his eyes met mine once again, they were filled with sadness. "I was there with you when you came around. You looked at me, and you looked… haunted. Like nothing would ever be right again. Like you would never be you again. I tried to touch you but you pulled away, as if... as if I was..."

I closed my eyes and shuddered. "As if you were going to hurt me."

His voice grew thick with emotion. "You told me that I should have left you. That I never should have stayed there and listened to you suffer. That you wished I had let you die. So, I told you that you were wrong. I said that I did exactly what I needed to, and that I'd do it again because that's what we do—we look out for each other."

My eyes went wide. "That's where that came from? I… I didn't think we had ever said that to each other, not out loud."

Chakotay nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I thought you remembered."

I swallowed down the tightness in my throat and did my best to walk the delicate line that the situation demanded of me. To pretend that we were talking about someone separate from me. "What did I say?"

"Nothing. You cried, and then the medic came and sedated you. But, you finally let me touch you. I hoped that would be enough to bring you back—that I could be enough—but it wasn't. I realized on our first night together after you were released that you never really left Korma outpost, and neither did I."

He was right, of course. He might as well have been a Cardassian, for the way I treated him when we had sex for the first time after the incident. It was nothing like the intimacy and the passion we had shared at the beginning of our relationship. Before long, our psychological lacerations hardened into scars, and we did manage to reclaim some of the former tenderness we had shared. But neither of us was ever quite the same.

And then came Voyager.

"Why is this coming up now?" I forced myself to ask, seeing as we were still in session.

Chakotay hung his head. When he answered my question, he murmured the words so quietly that I almost missed them. "Because Kathryn is doing the same thing."

* * *

"There's an old Terran saying." Kathryn's husky voice came like a blunt object, shattering the silence between us with its sudden impact. "'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' Ever heard it?"

I turned my head to look at her—a solemn profile silhouetted in her darkened quarters by the dim guide lights lining her walls as she stared unblinkingly out at the empty space beyond her viewport.

"Yes," I answered. "I have heard it before."

"I don't have scars like you do; they were erased almost as soon as I got to a Federation sickbay. But I really hated the counselor they made me see after I was rescued, and I would appreciate having someone to talk to who isn't just pretending to know what it's like because of some damned theory they read once."

I was sorely tempted to ask if she was even allowed to say the things she was preparing herself to reveal to me, but I couldn't speak the words. Ultimately, Starfleet could hang itself if it insisted that such secrets be kept at the cost of a person's psychological health. Besides, it wasn't as if I was new to the business of handling classified information.

"I'm listening," I murmured.

I had once thought her account of the shuttle accident that had claimed her father and fiancé was hard to listen to, but this was an entirely different kind of pain. He had been utterly methodical—the Gul who captured her and Owen Paris while they were taking readings of a moon along the Federation-Cardassian border. Anyone less familiar with Cardassian interrogation techniques might assume that they wanted to get information out of Owen, and that they had only turned to Kathryn after failing to break him.

But I knew the Cardassian military machine much better than that.

Getting information had never been the goal. Only punishment. Only hollowing Owen and Kathryn out until they were nothing but shells of the people they had once been. To their captors, truth and information were relative to each person and each situation, but finding the limits of their endurance offered valuable insight into who they were.

The Gul toyed with young Ensign Kathryn Janeway's psyche slowly, like a cat playing with a trapped mouse. Then, he changed tactics with the heart-stopping suddenness of a shuttle crash, allowing his soldiers to viciously abuse her body. It left her with psychological whiplash. After that, they left her in solitude to listen helplessly as they tortured her mentor somewhere beyond her field of vision.

It was that mission which had led Admiral Paris to begin pressing her to switch from science to command, because of her exemplary abilities to keep her head under pressure and to make quick decisions.

"Paris was right about me, in the end," she concluded. "I have always thrived on the ability to trust my instincts when it comes to taking action. I'm not good with abstract concepts. I never was. It's easier to simply look at the facts and then make a quick decision. You can't let yourself get weighed down by the what-ifs."

"But there are no decisions to be made here in the void," I observed. "No concrete facts to consider or objects to study. Only empty space and time."

"Too much time," she agreed.

"What do you think about these days," I asked cautiously, "other than the mission you just told me about?"

"The Caretaker. The Ocampa. The Kazon. And that damn array."

"Do you believe there is a connection between those missions?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course there isn't; I know that. And yet… I almost feel that there is. But I can't grasp what that connection could be."

"What about the order you gave during the slipstream flight?"

Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "What about it?"

"You ordered the crew to beam you alone onto Arturis' ship so you could cut Voyager and Equinox loose and hopefully give them a chance to escape the slipstream. Chakotay refused, as did Tuvok, and then everyone else fell in line behind them."

"Your point, Commander?" she demanded, her voice suddenly cold.

I had touched a nerve.

"Kathryn," I said soothingly, "I'm simply asking if that might be the connection. Clearly, Admiral Paris took you along on that mission because he knew there was a high risk of getting caught, and he hoped the Cardassians might go easier on you both because you were young and attractive and so clearly innocent. He was your commanding officer, and he used you to protect himself rather than protecting you like he should have. You suffered deeply because of him. For a while you were able to set Owen's betrayal aside, because you fell in love with your rescuer. But then you suffered an even greater tragedy on yet another mission that you shouldn't have been a part of."

I paused briefly to let my summary sink in before I added, "At least, that's what I'm getting from what you have said. Is this accurate?"

"More or less."

"I wonder if perhaps you have begun to believe that you are bringing suffering to those around you, all of whom serve under you at the moment. I wonder if you feel a need to prove to your crew, and perhaps even more so to yourself, that you are nothing like Owen Paris."

I had quite intentionally left her marriage to Chakotay out of my speech, but I suspected that her love for him had begun to turn into fear that she might lose him, too—or worse, betray him with a command decision.

Kathryn hung her head, but never responded to my observation. After a few moments of silence, she again lifted her face up to stare out from the viewport. "I showed you mine. I believe it's your turn now."

That was acceptance enough for me. Taking a deep cleansing breath, I told her everything I could about the Korma outpost raid that had turned into the worst experience of my life—the mission, and the fallout that had caused so much suffering to both Chakotay and myself.

It was time for me to come clean.


	18. Lost Amongst the Winning

**Lost Amongst the Winning**  
 _Source: VOY 05x10 Counterpoint_

* * *

 _Personal log, Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia: Stardate 52420.8_

 _I'm not sure how exactly this is going to come out, but I do know that I cannot hold it in any longer. My log entries for the entire past month have been utter bullshit, made for the sake of keeping our cover. Was it worth it—swallowing all that shit and spitting it back out for them, only to have it end like this? I don't know. I really don't know. But at least I can speak the truth now, even if only for my own sake._

 _After more than four months in the void, we stumbled across an interspacial flexure that led out of the void and about twelve thousand light-years closer to the Alpha Quadrant. The exit aperture was unstable, jumping locations every few days and not staying open for very long. Even so, every probe we sent through it returned data from within twenty light-years of the previous exit location—all of which indicated that the terminus consistently manifested well beyond the far side of the void._

 _When we felt confident enough to take our ships through the wormhole, it spat us out into gloriously star-filled space._

* * *

Captain Janeway looked as if she was about to cry, and there was a definite tremor in her voice when she asked, "Status?"

"Shields are holding," Tuvok reported from tactical.

"Warp core is stable, impulse engines at peak efficiency," replied Lieutenant Marla Gilmore from engineering ops. During our trek through the void, she had transferred to Voyager while Joe Carey had taken over Equinox's engine room.

"All systems are functioning within normal parameters, Captain," Harry answered from ops. "Equinox reports all systems ready."

Janeway exchanged a quick glance with Chakotay before turning her gaze towards the helm. For the first time in months, she seemed hopeful. "Tom, set a course for the Sol system, warp six."

Tom smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Engage."

"Hold on," Harry called out as his instruments began to sound a sensor alert. "I've got two alien vessels on an intercept course. They just dropped out of warp."

"Distance?"

"Three hundred thousand kilometers and closing."

"Maybe they're just dropping by to say hi," Tom remarked.

"Let's hope so, Mister Paris," Janeway said.

"They're hailing," Harry reported.

"Open a channel. On screen."

On the other side of the com link sat a fair-skinned, dark-haired, and cleanly attractive male officer with elevated brow and cheekbones. His confident demeanor was enhanced as his lips parted in a delighted smile of greeting. "Ah! Captain Janeway! Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

Janeway stood from her command chair and took several steps towards the viewscreen. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've met before."

"No, no, of course not. But you are so very famous now after all that you have done with the Borg, and those strange alien monsters, and now the Krenim. Word travels fast through the Turei Communications Network, you know."

"Oh?" the captain asked. "Are you friends of the Turei, Mister…?"

The man's eyes went wide. "Oh, my goodness, how rude of me. I seem to have forgotten my manners. I am Inspector Kashyk of the Devore Imperium. We are—" his hand rolled and swished elegantly in midair as he tried to come up with the best way to convey his message— "We have an understanding with the Turei. Normally, we wouldn't allow gaharay to cross our space, especially ones carrying telepaths—" he spat the word with disdain, but his tone immediately regained its former bravado as he continued. "However, since you are under their protection, I think we can let your infraction against us go this one time."

I pursed my lips as I watched Chakotay tighten his grip on the armrest of his seat, pulling the skin of his knuckles taught and turning them white. The change in angle made the gold band around his left ring finger strain upward towards the ceiling, and it glinted in the overhead light.

I felt a twinge of nausea hit my own stomach, as well. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but Inspector Kashyk somehow reminded me very much of Gul Dukat.

Captain Janeway, however, kept her cool with the ease of a seasoned diplomat. "Thank you, Inspector. We are very grateful for your leniency, and we do apologize for intruding on your space. We had no way to know where the wormhole would lead. I hope we haven't caused you too much trouble."

"Quite the opposite, Captain," Kashyk insisted. "In fact, your arrival through the wormhole was most convenient. You see, the terminus is unstable, and we have been trying to study it for years. It is very unpredictable, however, and quite difficult to track. We know little about it. It was your energy signature that helped us detect its arrival. We also found several of your probes, presumably left at its previous locations. We owe you a debt of gratitude. Therefore, I have a proposal to make."

"I'm listening."

"To show our appreciation for your aid in our detection of the wormhole, we will overlook the telepaths you have brought _illegally_ into our region, and allow both of your vessels safe passage through. We will plot you a course across the remainder of our space, avoiding any sensitive locations. You will not deviate from this course. And you will have to submit to the occasional inspection, to ensure you are following our laws and are not posing a danger to our state."

Janeway crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And if I refuse?"

"Your vessels will be impounded, your crews imprisoned, and your telepaths relocated. Eventually, the Turei will come and give the Imperium incentive to release you into their custody, but there's no telling where your telepaths might be by then. You have a long journey through Devore space. Believe me, Captain, you do not want to refuse my offer."

* * *

 _Our first week in Devore space were mostly uneventful. We submitted to a painfully thorough inspection, but were otherwise simply monitored from a distance as we followed the course they had set for us. We were careful not to stray the least bit from our course._

 _On the second week, while moving through a remote sector of space, we happened upon a Devore cargo ship in distress and stopped to help. Although they accepted our assistance, they were initially rather brusque. There was something deeper, as well, hiding beneath their harshness._

 _They were wary of us._

 _I wasn't able to put my finger on it until Harry and B'Elanna pulled out their tricorders to scan the vessel's damaged engine systems. At that action, I recognized the exact same suspicion that I had seen countless times in my comrades while I was with the Maquis; they were hiding something illegal amongst their cargo. When B'Elanna's repair estimate put the captain of the cargo vessel in a crunch, his expression became desperate as he revealed his secret to Chakotay and me._

 _He was smuggling telepathic refugees._

* * *

"The Devore warships are assuming a tactical formation," Tuvok reported from tactical ops.

"Bridge to transporter room," Janeway called. "Status."

"All set here, Captain," Harry answered over the com. "Pattern cohesion looks stable."

"Cargo bay one, Report."

"The bay is clear," came Annika's voice.

With no stars to chart during our time in the void, Annika had been spending a great deal of time training with Harry to further advance her knowledge of ship operations. She turned out to have quite the knack for it, and had been instrumental in helping Harry work out the rather risky procedure they were currently performing.

"The vessels are powering weapons," warned Tuvok.

"Some rescue party," Tom quipped.

At ops, where I was filling in for Harry, the console alerted me to an incoming transmission. "They're hailing, Captain."

"Open a channel."

Connecting the com to the main viewscreen, I looked up to see the familiar face of an older, balding Devore officer whose name I knew to be Prax. "Gaharay vessel, prepare to be inspected. Crew members are instructed to step away from their stations. Sidearms and scanning equipment are to be set aside. Deviation from this or any other inspection protocols will not be tolerated."

The captain didn't even have to give me an order; I knew what to do. Without so much as a 'good-bye, see you soon,' I cut the link with Prax and activated the ship-wide intercom. I also sent a text transmission to the Equinox so that Captain Ransom could prepare his own crew.

Janeway stood from her command seat as she addressed the whole crew. "All hands, this is the captain. Prepare to be boarded by Devore inspection teams. Give them your full cooperation. Let's get this over with."

The internal sensors began feeding me information about the incoming inspection teams, which I announced to the captain. "Their soldiers have materialized on decks fifteen, eleven, four, and one." Then, as I implemented my encryption codes to secure the station, I suddenly heard the symphonic sounds of classical Terran orchestral music fill the air.

"Captain Janeway," came Kashyk's sickeningly smooth and smug voice over the com. "Report to your ready room."

I forced myself not to give into the impulse to observe the command team as they parted ways, and to instead finish securing my station before Prax and his men were dismissed from the ready room to begin their inspection of the bridge. By the time I stepped away from ops and began to make my way onto the center dais, Chakotay was standing alone in the command center.

When I took my place beside him, I could feel the suppressed rage vibrating the air between us.

As the rest of the bridge officers came to take their places on either side of us, I gently nudged Chakotay's hand with mine and gave it a quick squeeze. His eyes closed, and he forced himself to take a deep breath before opening them again. He did not look at me.

But he did squeeze my hand back.

Hearing the ready room doors hiss open, we pulled our hands away from each other and watched as Prax directed his men to begin checking stations while he scanned our gathered crew. The inspection seemed to drag on forever. I knew it would—the other two certainly had—but the tension was so much higher this time.

I only hoped that the officer examining ops didn't catch onto what I had encrypted.

After the bridge inspection was complete, Inspector Kashyk and Captain Janeway emerged from her ready room.

"All clear here, sir," Prax reported.

Kashyk simply nodded his approval, and Prax made his way off the bridge to check on the other inspection teams.

Turning to face the bridge staff as we stood at attention on the dais, Kashyk strode right up to me—just close enough to make me really nervous—and he smiled. "My, my, Lieutenant Commander Eelo, you are positively glowing! How is pregnancy treating you this week?"

"Very well, Inspector," I forced myself to say with utter neutrality.

"I'm told you were on the rescue team sent to our cargo ship to assess their condition and needs."

"That's correct, Inspector."

"In order to better help our citizens tend to their vessel, I will need to know what conclusions you came to."

"Then you should direct your questions to Commander Chakotay," I suggested, gesturing to my friend beside me. "He lead the away mission, not me."

Kashyk glanced over at Chakotay, who held his tongue and waited. He did not look Kashyk in the eye.

 _Chakotay, for god's sake, play along._

Regarding Voyager's first officer dismissively with a twitch of his brow ridges, Kashyk looked again to me. "Yes, I am aware of that. But I am rather more interested in _your_ observations. You are the one with psychological training; is that not the very reason you accompanied the team? Or do you have a hidden talent for ship's operations that you picked up while you were a resistance fighter?"

I forced myself not to react to his carefully selected words. I was not usually stationed at ops, and he knew it. More than that, I was the daughter of a refugee whose people had been interned by the Cardassians in ways similar to the Devore Imperium's internment of telepathic species. I joined to Maquis because of my mother's passion for Bajoran freedom from oppression. He knew that, too.

I knew what he was trying to do; he was trying to get under my skin, just like a Cardassian. I refused to give him what he wanted. Instead, I offered cold indifference.

 _Because I am better than you._

"What would you like to know, Inspector?"

* * *

 _Although the Devore inspection teams found nothing incriminating, they still impounded the cargo ship and detained the crew for questioning. Thanks to our relationship with the Turei, the inspector allowed Voyager and Equinox to resume course._

 _As soon as the warships were out of sensor range, Harry, B'Elanna, Annika, and their teams all went to work rematerializing the twelve Brenari refugees who had been hiding on the cargo vessel. Together, they managed to accomplish in a few hours what Federation scientists had long believed to be too risky to even consider._

 _When the Brenari first arrived, they were half-starved and completely terrified. Chakotay and I hadn't had much time to get to know them or set their minds at ease about us before we had to make them disappear, only for them to find upon their return that their Devore protectors had been incarcerated. My heart broke for them._

 _But then there was Anelina._

 _Anelina was an early adolescent girl with dark hair, lively brown eyes, and a quick mind. She was not the least bit intimidated by Annika's Borg implants or aloof mannerisms, but rather intrigued. No doubt thanks to Annika's unique friendship with the equally curious Naomi Wildman, Annika was quite open to Anelina's company. The girl was an unending well of questions, and a delight to everyone who spent time with her._

 _To Annika, however, she seemed to be a chance at redemption._

 _For three weeks, we carried on in relative quiet and were only inspected once. It seemed that we were in the clear._

 _Until suddenly, just a few light-years shy of the border, we weren't._

* * *

"The Devore warships are assuming a tactical formation."

Janeway nodded at Tuvok's report. "Bridge to transporter room. Status."

"All set here, Captain," Harry answered over the com. "Pattern cohesion is stable."

"Cargo bay one. Report."

"The bay is clear," came Annika's voice.

"The vessels are powering weapons," warned Tuvok.

"Why do they bother?" Tom grumbled from the conn. "They know we won't resist."

Janeway's voice was deadly calm. "Protocol, Mister Paris."

The ops console alerted me to an incoming transmission. "They're hailing, Captain."

"Open a channel."

As usual, Prax's crotchety face appeared when I connected the com to the main viewscreen. "Gaharay vessel, prepare to be—"

"We've been through three inspections," Janeway snapped irritably. "Please explain why another is necessary."

Prax's eyes narrowed at the captain's interruption. "Crew members are instructed to step away from their stations. Sidearms and scanning equipment are to be set aside. Deviation from this or any other inspection protocols will not be tolerated."

"All hands, this is the captain. Prepare to be boarded by Devore inspection teams. Give them your usual warm welcome."

As always, I read off the internal sensor readings aloud. "Their soldiers have materialized on decks fifteen, eleven, four—"

"And—" Janeway stood as she finished my report for me "—one."

"Captain Janeway," Kashyk called over the com. I hadn't thought it possible, but his voice was even more smug than usual. "Report to your ready room."

Once I had encrypted ops, I unsheathed my knife and dropped it into the station's seat as instructed. Then, I moved to join Chakotay and the rest of the bridge officers in the command center. After catching my eyes, Tom made a subtle show of glancing between Chakotay and the ready room doors before shooting me a questioning look; I returned with a shake of my head.

When the bridge inspection was complete, Kashyk and Janeway emerged to join us on the dais. This time, however, the captain's face was very subtly tighter and more pale than usual.

"As you indicated, sir," Prax reported.

"Thank you, Prax," Kashyk said. "If you will wait here for a moment, please."

Then, making his way over to me, Kashyk flashed me a vicious grin that turned my blood to ice. "Lieutenant Commander Eelo," he drawled. "Three weeks ago, I wouldn't have even known of your joyous condition apart from our bioscans and, of course, your radiant maternal glow. But look at how quickly you've grown! You Bajorans have the most efficient pregnancies."

"Thank you, Inspector," I choked out as calmly as I could.

In a deceptively elegant and chivalrous gesture, he indicated that I was to take his hand. "If you would, Commander? I'd like to show you something."

Both Tom and Chakotay—who stood on either side of me—instinctively tensed, ready to jump to my defense.

"Gentlemen," Janeway rebuked from where Kashyk had left her standing on the edge of the dais. Her voice was littered with gravel, and it strained to embody its usual commanding gravitas. Still, it stopped them short.

I wasn't sure that I had ever heard that tone from her before, but I knew that I never wanted to hear it again for as long as I lived.

Briefly, I rested one hand each on the men beside me and offered a gentle squeeze before slipping the fingers of my right hand into Kashyk's left palm. Then, I locked my eyes onto the inspector's and silently begged my pagh not to fail me.

 _Remember who you are._

"By all means, Inspector," I answered as I stepped out of line.

With all the grace of a gentleman at a diplomatic ballroom affair, Kashyk guided me around the command center and to the station I had occupied at ops.

"Oh, how lovely," he exclaimed as we stepped into the alcove together. Releasing my fingers, he reached out to pick up the knife I had left behind in my seat, and examined it closely. "What a remarkable piece of weaponry," he marveled. Then, he lifted his eyes to mine and regarded me with a curious look. "And an unusual choice for a concealed sidearm, considering the options at your disposal. Would I be correct in thinking it has some kind of cultural or sentimental value?"

Lifting my chin defiantly, I draped my hands on top of my growing belly. "It's called a tagh, Inspector. It's an accessory for the talin'sera hand-to-hand combat technique developed by ancient Bajoran warriors." With a smirk, I added, " _Female_ warriors, who founded some of Bajor's most honored families. You would be surprised at how many men I have cut down with that blade, in spite of their technologically superior weapons."

I had hoped to intimidate him, but his countenance displayed nothing haughty amusement. "Indeed. Considering what I have read in your database about your mother, I would expect nothing less—regardless of your official role on this ship. I am rather curious, however, as to why a counselor would be stationed at operations. Isn't that your husband's job?"

"I am well-versed in many functions, Inspector. My time with the Maquis taught me to fill a variety of roles as needed, something which Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay have found advantageous to continue practicing here on Voyager."

"And your talent for encryption algorithms?" Kashyk eyed me carefully as he began to reveal his hand. "Do they find that advantageous as well?"

"It has been, in the past."

"I think it is at present. In fact, I think that you are the reason why we cannot properly complete our inspection of this station."

I smiled, feigning amusement. "I think you might be suffering from a mild case of paranoia, Inspector. Perhaps you should consider seeing a psychologist."

Kashyk's laughter sent chills down my spine. "Prax, escort Captain Janeway to the turbolift." Offering me his hand once again, he said, "Let's all inspect cargo bay one together, shall we?"

* * *

 _They knew. Goddamn them. They knew! As soon as we arrived in the cargo bay, Kashyk contacted his men in transporter room one and they set about rematerializing the Brenari refugees. Given how easily they were able to do it, we all knew there was only one way they had come by their information._

 _Someone on Voyager had tipped them off._

 _As the Brenari materialized on the deck, I felt myself go numb. Too many emotions warred within me, and so my mind shut down in self-defense. Yes, I admit it; I stood there and watched as Kashyk's men arrested the twelve Brenari men, women, and children for the crime of being born with telepathy. And I did nothing._

 _Ashamed as I am about my inaction, I know now that nothing could have been accomplished at that point. Kashyk had brought with him a fleet of six warships, and there were countless more stationed along the border to which we were so very close. No amount of resistance on our part could have saved those people._

 _Yet, I will never for the rest of my life forget what happened when they moved to arrest Anelina._

 _For all of her logic, efficiency, and aloof tactical thinking, something shook loose inside of Annika when a Devore soldier roughly grabbed that sweet young girl and smirked down at her. Annika moved so fast that nobody saw her coming as she wrenched Anelina from the man's grasp and threw him violently to the deck._

* * *

"You will not take her!" Annika shouted at the soldiers as she shoved the girl protectively behind herself.

Nearly every Devore weapon trained instantly on her.

Kashyk simply laughed. "How noble," he mocked as he strode towards Annika. He knew as well as she did—as we all did—that she could kill him with next to no effort. He also knew that he still had the upper hand, even if she did. So he did not stop until he was face to face with her.

"The Borg drone, responsible for assimilating _millions_ , throws herself between an entire army and one little telepath. If I didn't know any better, I'd say your reaction is almost… human."

"Stand down, Crewman," Janeway ordered, though it clearly pained her to do so.

The command fell on deaf ears.

Annika sneered at Kashyk. "You will leave this child untouched."

"I'd really rather not have to kill you or arrest your crewmates."

She grit her teeth. " _Comply_."

"Annika," came Anelina's small but sure voice behind her. Taking Annika's hand, she pressed into it the PADD on which she had spent the past three weeks composing her own series of log entries. Without another word, the girl stepped around both of the adults and joined her family in custody.

With a victorious smirk, Kashyk turned away from Annika and looked directly at Captain Janeway. "You will be escorted by three of our warships to the border. From there, you will leave our space immediately."

"Sir—" Prax began to protest.

But Kashyk held up a silencing hand. "Should you attempt to return and break more of our laws, you will not receive the same leniency I am giving you today. If that happens, not even the goodwill of the Turei will spare your crews from punishment." Casting a quick glance my way, he added, "Or their children."

Then, as his men began transporting themselves and the Brenari back to their ships, he flashed her a wicked grin. "Safe journey, Captain."

* * *

 _Nothing can make right the horror that the Devore Imperium has wrought among its conquered people in the name of state security. Nothing can save the millions of innocents they have scapegoated and persecuted in their blind hate. And, chances are not good that anything can save Anelina from the suffering she will be forced to endure in whatever remote labor camp she ends up being sent to._

 _Captain Janeway is near-obsessed with finding out the traitor among our crew, though whoever it was has covered their tracks incredibly well. Most of the crews believe it to be Iliana. Some on the Equinox insist it is Annika, in spite of her actions to defend Anelina. Tuvok, of course, remains reasonably skeptical of all accusations brought to his attention, and has made no arrests._

 _But one good thing could still possibly come from this horrible series of events. At Annika's request, I have transmitted a copy of Anelina's logs to my dear friend Elentia, carefully encrypted within what will appear to be an innocuous message letting her know that we made it safely through the void ahead of schedule._

 _When she decrypts it, she will immediately show the logs to her wife, Queen Nessav Kyana of the Krenim Commonwealth._

 _And the queen will be furious._


	19. When the Bough Breaks

**When the Bough Breaks**

 _Source: VOY 05x16 Gravity_  
 _Content Warning: Severe injury, pregnancy loss, grief_

 _Note: The show refers to the planet as Class D; given that it has an atmosphere and limited forms of life, I have changed it to Class L._

 _Gratitude to Helen for giving me a second pair of eyes on this and the next chapter._

* * *

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, but it became the worst experience of my life.

There were two away teams sent ahead of Voyager to survey a few nearby systems and decide if they were worth straying from our course. Tuvok, Tom, and I were one team; Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Sam were the other.

As we made our way back to the rendezvous coordinates, our shuttle got caught in the gravity of an anomaly that had not registered at all on sensors. One moment we were fine; the next, we were sucked into subspace and cast down on the surface of a Class L planet inside of… whatever it was.

I don't even remember landing. Apparently, it was pretty rough. When I came to, Tom was hovering over me with a big red welt on his forehead that shifted with the furrow of his brow. Almost as soon as I opened my eyes, I started screaming.

And then, I was gasping for air.

Tom acted quickly, his field medic training taking over as he deduced from a scan what was happening and worked to remedy it. The hyposprays hissed as they bit into my neck, filling my blood with oxygen and quelling the sharp pain squeezing my chest.

"Shh, Talia," Tom said as he scanned me with a medical tricorder, "deep, slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Just as I was dragging in a long, intentional breath, I felt something like a tremor inside of my abdomen. I gasped, and nearly choked. "Baby?"

He did not reply.

* * *

Her name was Noss.

She had witnessed our shuttle going down, and had sought it out to scavenge for supplies. If it hadn't been for the sight of me and my protruding belly on the floor as Tom treated me, she would have robbed us. That was how one survived there—on a harsh desert planet that nobody had come to on purpose and from which nobody could escape.

Seeing a pregnant woman, however, gave her second thoughts, so she began the trek back to her home. Not far off from our shuttle, she was ambushed. Tuvok, who had been out searching for a freshwater source, jumped to her rescue and brought her back to the shuttle so he could treat her wounds.

By that time, Tom had managed to stabilize me and the baby—at least for the time being. He decided that the increased gravitational forces were putting a great deal of strain on my heart, which was already pumping at a significantly increased rate due to the physiology of Bajoran pregnancy. If Voyager didn't rescue us soon, I could be in serious danger.

The problem was, every time Tom tried to send out a distress signal, it got bounced back by the anomaly that had sucked us into the hidden star system. Tom mused to Tuvok that it might be some kind of gravitational sinkhole, but I was struggling just to stay awake.

We barely had time to grab basic supplies before a band of scavengers showed up. Unlike Noss, they would not take pity on us on my account, so Noss led us to her ship. It was mostly in one piece, although its engines had fallen off on her way down and she could only power a few of its systems. But she had water, she had shelter, and she had rigged a force field around her ship to keep it safe from thieves.

For the first few days, I was able to force aside my worries about the baby enough to focus on my job—establishing a dialogue with Noss. Our communications badges were inexplicably useless in the sinkhole, which left us without a universal translator. Luckily, she had even more of an aptitude for picking up languages than I did, and soon we were having basic conversations.

In spite of the language barrier, Noss was able to quickly teach Tuvok how to hunt for the most readily available food source available—very large, non-poisonous desert spiders. Hunting went much faster with the pair of them, giving her more time to converse with me while I was confined to bedrest.

One week into our stay on the planet, I lost the pregnancy.

* * *

When I went into labor, Tom already knew what had to be done and jumped into action. "Noss, bring pillows, blankets, and water. Tuvok, I need you to sit against that crate and brace her."

Quickly, they got everything together and arranged me into a comfortable position.

Tom grasped my hand and spoke to me gently. "Tal, Harry's told me about the Bajoran birthing process. I know this is hard, but I need you to relax. We're all here for you. You're going to be okay." He cradled my chin with his free hand and pressed a kiss onto my clammy forehead.

Normally, Bajoran birthing ceremonies involved a very particular rhythm carried by a mixture of percussive instruments; ultimately, what mattered was simply to play music that would help the mother relax. Tom had no instruments, and he knew exactly zero Bajoran birthing chants, so he improvised instead. Rocking back on his heels, he began to sing a very old Terran song that had meant so much to us when we were younger and full of promise.

 _I, I will be king  
And you, you will be queen  
Though nothing will drive them away  
We can beat them, just for one day  
We can be heroes, just for one day_

I smiled weakly, memories of our ill-fated, teenaged romance coursing through my mind. "Our song," I whispered.

He returned my smile and nodded his head, clutching my hand tightly to his chest. "You were the first person to believe I could be good."

"Fat lot of help that was," I teased weakly. "We both ended up being criminals anyway."

He chuckled and pushed several strands of hair back from where they were stuck to my face with sweat. Then, he continued to sing.

 _You, you can be mean  
And I, I'll drink all the time  
Cause we're lovers, that is a fact  
Yes, we're lovers, and that is that  
Though nothing will keep us together  
We could steal time, just for one day  
We could be heroes forever and ever..._

* * *

At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep, because my awareness started to lapse as I listened to Tom's sweet voice. I saw the faces of my family—my mother, drilling her indomitable strength into me; my father, teaching me how to lead with integrity; my brother, encouraging me to be daring and fearless; my sister, singing the beauty of life through all its ups and downs; my grandmother, guiding me through the liturgies of inner peace; my aunt Aradne, reminding me to see everyone with compassion.

I don't know how long I slept; all I remember is waking up with a start as something cold and smooth pressed against my neck.

"Talia?" Tom came swimming into my vision.

"Tommy," I whispered, smiling. "We gonna fly today?"

His worried eyes became glassy with tears, but he blinked them back. "No, Tal, not today. You're going into labor again. Your heart tried to give out on us last time, but you're okay now. I just need you to relax, okay? Can you do that for me?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. _Labor? Jesus, is this some kind of joke?_ We were far too young for kids, we were both on contraceptives, and our genes were incompatible anyway. There was no way Tom could have gotten me pregnant.

At that moment, I became aware of the body behind me, whose arms and legs braced me at a forty-five degree angle, and whose musky aroma struck me as familiar even though I couldn't match the scent with an identity. I realized then that I wasn't breathing in the salty-sweet air of the bay, but the unfamiliar atmosphere of a dry and dusty climate.

All at once, the truth of my present reality unveiled itself. An inescapable wave of grief crashed down on me, racking my body with sobs. I knew that if I couldn't calm down soon, my labor would be delayed yet again; but the grief was so deep and so violent, I was sure I would drown in it. The thought of another failed labor sent a shock of anxiety through me, and soon enough, I was having a panic attack.

When his medical tricorder blared warning alerts, Tom started to panic, as well. "Talia," he called desperately, scrambling to calm me down any way he could. He tried to sing, but he could no longer keep his voice from breaking as he began to cry in earnest—an extreme rarity for him. "Please, Talia. Please, calm down. Please, stay with me."

But, the pain had already started, a dull pressure in my chest that clutched at my lungs in spite of the building pregnancy endorphins. This was no panic attack. I reached out desperately for Tom, my fingernails digging into anything they could find.

"Please—" I begged. "I can't—" But I was just gasping for air, and coming back empty. I couldn't breathe. I was exhausted. I dropped my head back onto Tuvok's shoulder.

Just as my consciousness began to slip through my fingers like sand, I felt the cold tip of a hypospray bite into my chest, sending something hissing into my heart that made my eyes snap violently open and my lungs suck in a deep, gasping breath.

Then, I became aware of fingertips splaying out and pressing into either side of my face. In my back, I felt vibrations as Tuvok's thrumming voice enveloped me from behind. "Clear your mind of all thought and focus on the sound of my voice. Your mind to my mind; your thoughts to my thoughts."

The sensation overwhelmed me instantly. It was calm and steady where I was not, so I closed my eyes and gave myself over to it.

"Imagine that my thoughts are a peaceful stream, and allow your mind to float on top of them."

I could see water in my mind's eye. It was as if I had fallen into a river and been pulled under by the rapids. But just as I was about to give into them and drown, the waters slowed to a gentle pace and carried me to the surface where I could float. I knew somehow that I could survive if I only allowed the stream to carry me to safety. The storm clouds overhead cleared, and the sun shone down warmly on my face. My breathing became easy, natural, and calm.

Then, I became aware of music. Somewhere, a man was singing, and I knew the song. Or was it me who was singing? Memories of home filled me up, buoyant on top of the water. I had sung it long ago over my children back on Vulcan, just as my own parents had sung it to me, and their parents to them.

 _No. Not me. Vulcan is not my home. And I don't have children—n_ _ot anymore._

Water suddenly filled my mouth and my nostrils, and I choked on it. But there was that song again, the rich tones carried on the wind and filling my lungs with sweet oxygen once more. It was a lullaby, strong and comforting and precise, its steady rhythm bringing order and serenity to my chaotic mind. I smiled into the memories it brought—not of people or events anymore, but simply the sense that I had never been more safe in my entire life.

Then, I became aware of a tiny, brown sparrow sitting on my belly, feathers fluffed contentedly as he slept. The singing washed over us and he awoke, listening calmly for a few moments before sweetly joining in the song. As we floated nearer to the put-in, he stood and flapped his wings, but he was young and his feathers hadn't come in full enough for flight.

This is why I was here, I realized, floating on my back rather than swimming myself to shore; I had to get him safely to the forest where he could be free.

So I did. After we reached the shore, I cupped him gently in my hands as I carried him to the tree where his mother waited for him. With a kiss on his soft little head, I set him down inside of his delicately woven nest. "Toi mureshi (Awake child)," I said over him with a smile. "Aka suul'ekan akayah per sholey il bajor (We await you with love and welcome you into the world)."

And then, I walked on.

* * *

It took a full two days of sleeping for me to maintain any lasting coherence. When I finally regained consciousness, I was laid out on a palate next to a low-slung table set with several candles, which flickered brightly in silence. For a moment, I thought that I was alone; drawing my body up onto my elbows, I surveyed the room and noticed Tom propped up against the wall about a meter away, snoozing.

I brought myself all the way up to sitting and paused, allowing my brain time to rebalance the flow of the blood in my body. Thirsty—I was so thirsty. I took a shuddering breath and turned to my oldest, dearest friend.

"Tom," I breathed, but no sound came out. He didn't stir—not that I could have expected him to once I realized that my voice was gone. I had no idea how long I'd been asleep, but I knew my legs were far too atrophied to carry me anywhere, so I cleared my throat and tried again. "Tom."

That time, I managed to make a croaking sound; he must not have been very deeply asleep, because it was enough to get his attention. His head snapped up as his mind registered who had called him. "Talia," he gasped, scrambling over to my side and wrapping me up in his warm, steady embrace.

I opened my mouth to ask for water, but instead, I just started crying. As thirsty as I felt, it was a wonder that I had enough moisture to produce tears at all.

Tom squeezed me tighter, as if his love could heal the gaping wound in my soul. "Shh," he consoled, "you're okay. I'm here. I've got you."

After a few minutes, the pain ebbed slightly, and I took a full breath. "Water," I requested weakly. "Please, water."

Quickly, he nodded and obliged my request, handing me a canteen. "Take it slow, Tal. You've been living on hyposprays for the last two days. Last thing you need is to make yourself throw up."

After taking a few small sips, I set the canteen on the floor by my palate. "Where is he?" I asked.

"Tal—" he started to argue.

I looked him squarely in the eyes and ground my teeth. " _Where is my son, Tom?_ "

He let out a breath. "We buried him outside, a few meters from the ship."

"Take me," I demanded.

"I can't right now," he said. "The forcefield is up, and Tuvok and Noss are out hunting. But even if I could, you're still too weak. You tried to die on us twice, Tal. Your heart isn't adjusting well to the gravitational forces here. You can't push it."

Again, my eyes welled over with tears, and I gasped out a sob as I clutched my still-swollen belly and folded myself over it. "No," I whimpered as he reached to wrap me again in his embrace.

Feeling an awful surge of angry energy from somewhere deep and primal, I screamed and shoved him violently away from me. " _NO_! You can't do this!"

The color drained from Tom's face at my reaction as I sent him sprawling on the floor.

"I have to see him," I insisted, turning onto my belly and clawing at the floor in my futile attempt to get away. "I have to give him the blessing—and the chant—have to—" For a split second, my mind registered the cold press of a hypospray against my neck, and the world started to blur. "No—"

Then, everything went black.

* * *

When Tuvok and Noss returned from their hunt, Tom carried me outside to visit my son's grave. I don't know how long I stayed there, or how loudly I wailed. All I know is that I sunk my fingers as far down into the dirt as possible, pressed my forehead against the ground, and chanted the way my mother had taught me to do at such a time of loss.

My baby. My son. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. All I had left of my sweet Harry and the dreams we had so lovingly crafted together. The blood of Bajor and Earth was going to rot in the soil of a desolate desert planet within a gravitational sinkhole on the opposite side of the galaxy from the lands we called home.

Wrong. It was wrong. It was all wrong. Nothing—not even a miraculous rescue by Voyager—could ever make it right again. I may as well have buried myself there in the ground with my only son.

The feel and smell of dirt clung to my fingertips even after Tom had washed it away.

* * *

For weeks, I laid out on my palate in front of the table with the candles. I cried almost non-stop for many days and nights on end until, eventually, I just became numb. After that, I took to either staring into the flames or sleeping away each passing day.

Every so often, Tom would rouse me to make me eat and drink and relieve myself. I couldn't seem to make myself move, and he often had to carry me like an invalid. In time he decided that I was well enough to use my own legs, and he tried to force me onto my feet.

But I could not stand.

Most days, I wondered why I bothered to make the effort to take each successive breath. The longer we went without word from Voyager, the more hopeless our situation seemed. Eventually, I just assumed that they had given us up for dead and resumed course for home.

The realization settled gradually around me like the creeping approach of nightfall; by the time I recognized it for what it was, I had nothing to do but accept the present reality. Somewhere within the darkness of my mind, I was aware of the effect that our loss likely had for loved ones aboard Voyager.

Harry must have been devastated.

I, however, had no room left for feeling. I was hollow, like a tree struck by lightning and burned out. I simply laid there on the floor, watching flames dance atop fat candles.

Tom and I had both grown so accustomed to sharing a bed with someone that we would gravitate towards each other in the night. Soon enough, he simply shoved his palate up against mine and we started sharing blankets. It was a poor substitute for Harry and B'Elanna, but it may have been the only thing that reminded me I was still alive.

Sometimes, I could almost pretend that it was Harry's arms wrapped around me as he fell asleep. Harry's breath sliding gently down my neck. Harry unconsciously pressing close to me in the stillness just before dawn.

Yet it was unmistakably Tom who murmured B'Elanna's name as he slept. Tom who awoke at midnight weeping into the uniform jacket balled up underneath his head. Tom who tried to distract me from my unrelenting pain with stories that she had likely made him swear to keep private.

It was also Tom who took care of me, keeping me alive when all I wanted was to wither away into nothing. Tom who stretched my muscles, dosed my pain-killers, and kept my hair clean. Tom who hugged me close and promised me that he was going to find a way to make me well again.

Lacking any anti-depressant medication with which to treat me, and at his wit's end for how to counteract my worsening malnutrition as I repeatedly refused to eat, Tom begged Tuvok to bring me back to myself with a mind meld. I'm told that although Tuvok was hesitant at first, he eventually agreed. When it was done, I fell into a deep, deep sleep that lasted all through the night.

After nine weeks of inertia, I awoke and sat up to glimpse the earliest signs of twilight as Tuvok slipped out of the airlock for his morning meditation. For the first time, because of the meld, I realized that Tuvok's emotional self-control was no longer a renewable resource. Two melds with me at my lowest point had cost him dearly, and all the meditation he did was not replenishing him the way it used to.

Soon, he would be the one in need of care.

When dawn broke, and Tom stirred awake to find me finally upright, he smiled for the first time. With the upmost level of care, he hooked his arms under my shoulders and braced my back against his chest.

Then, with my own shaky legs finally beneath me, he helped me to stand.


	20. A Broken Hallelujah

**A Broken Hallelujah**  
 _Source: VOY 05x13 Gravity_

 _CW: Grief, pregnancy loss_ _  
Edited to remove sexual content; M-rated version posted on ArchiveOfOurOwn dot Org._

* * *

With every passing day, I grew a little bit stronger. Before long, I was able to handle the short walk from the ship's main room back to the crew quarters, allowing me some degree of privacy for the first time in three months. During the day, I tinkered with the ship's systems, maintained the distress beacon, and helped Noss and Tuvok cook meals.

Tom refused to leave my side. Noss' ship wasn't very large, but there were more than enough bunks for each of us to have our own. Still, Tom was terrified that I might stop breathing in the night while he slept, and so we continued to share a bed. Noss found this curious, having heard stories about our relationships with Harry and B'Elanna on Voyager; as time went on, she began asking me more and more questions about various Federation worlds and their cultural views on love… particularly for Vulcans.

Tom was convinced that Noss was in love with Tuvok. I doubted him at first, but soon it was as obvious as the ridges on my nose. He tried to convince Tuvok to go for it, but Tuvok insisted it was an illogical and pointless type of relationship to pursue.

This attitude baffled Tom, who grew increasingly frustrated with Tuvok's aloofness. He even asked me to speak with Tuvok—to "reason" with him, my friend said—but I refused. Tom could not understand, even on a theoretical level, Vulcan interpersonal psychology. It was better he simply learned to accept Tuvok as he was, and let him be.

Beyond that, I knew something about Tuvok that Tom didn't—something that, for the time being, was better kept private. Tuvok was waging his own inner war to maintain control over his mind for as long as he possibly could. He knew, and I knew, that it was only a matter of time before he began to succumb to the effects of his degenerative neurological condition.

If Noss wasn't able to conquer her own emotions, how could she possibly be of support when Tuvok's mental control began to slip from his grasp?

I knew it was only a matter of time for me, as well. Although I was out of any immediate danger, and I was able to perform simple daily tasks with relative ease, I knew that my heart had been injured too badly to be restored to the strength it once had.

Every so often, I could feel it losing track of its own rhythm. Usually, it was so slight and so fleeting that it had no effect on me other than a momentary shortness of breath. Without treatment, however, the problem would only get worse.

Tom said nothing of it, but it was obvious that he knew. At first, I let him be. Perhaps he needed time to figure out how to break the news to me. But the longer he held his tongue, the more it began to grate on my nerves. Late one night as he checked my vitals before bed, sometime near the end of our fifth month on the planet, my patience finally ran out.

* * *

"Tom." The stern tone of my voice grabbed his attention, and his eyes jumped up to meet mine. "I may not be a medic, but I've been around sickbay enough to learn a few things. I know about my condition."

"It's just a check-up, Tal," he murmured, "like every other night."

"You don't have to lie to me, Tom. I'm never getting better."

"Please don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"You don't—" he paused to swallow the tremor in his voice and take a deep breath. "You don't know that. Nobody does."

"You do." I rested my palm against his cheek. "I see it in your eyes, every time you look at me. It's in the way you treat me like I could break at any moment. I need surgery."

Tom's face flushed red as he snapped his tricorder shut and shook his head vigorously. "No."

My hand dropped to his chest. "I'm a heart failure waiting to happen."

"No!" he shouted. "Don't say that! Don't even fucking think about it!" He was shaking with anger and fear, and he looked like he was fighting to hold back tears.

In that moment, I realized that he hadn't actually been trying to protect me from the truth; he had been trying to protect himself.

With both hands I reached for him, landing first on his chest before sliding up to his shoulders to pull him towards me, and then moving up to wrap around the back of his neck. "Tom, listen—"

"No!" He grabbed my shoulders firmly with both hands. "I won't let it happen! I won't. I'll figure it out. I'll—I'll find a way to fix this ship, and we'll get you help. I promise. I won't let you—"

All at once, he lost the war he had been fighting against himself. An onslaught of tears forced their way from his eyes. He dropped his forehead to press it against mine, and his fingers curled around the straps of my grey undershirt. "I've lost everyone else. I won't lose you, too. I can't—you can't just—"

My own eyes filled with tears at the sight of him finally breaking. Had he been holding everything inside for me, all this time? "Tommy—"

"You have to stay with me," he begged, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pressed his face still closer to mine. "Please. I need you to stay with me. I…" His lips brushed up against mine—not to kiss, but simply by virtue of their proximity.

Still, it made my breath hitch. In that moment, his presence filled up my entire world.

I could feel the words tumbling out of his mouth and spilling onto my lips when he finally said, "I need you."

For a few panted breaths, neither one of us moved at all. Tom was waiting for me to promise him something that I simply couldn't give him. I wanted to tell him I would stay; with all that was left of my soul, I wanted to give him my word. But I had no control over my own fate in life; how could I possibly delay my untimely death?

 _Unless he thinks I might end my own life_. I squeezed my eyes shut, wringing out every last tear. It wasn't my weakened heart that he feared would take me from him; it was my grief. All I could manage to say was, "Oh."

Grasping my shoulders once again, Tom pulled back just enough so that he could look me in the eyes. "Promise me, Talia."

The answer came surprisingly easy. "Okay." He looked for a moment as if he didn't believe me, but I nodded and said, "I promise, Tom." My thumbs stroked the sides of his face. "I'll stay with you."

A puff of air forced its way from his mouth, and taut muscles relaxed with relief. His hands released their grip on my shoulders to slide inward, trembling from the sudden withdrawal of his fear. He looked as if I had just snatched him from the precipice of panic.

I had never seen him so broken before.

Fingers danced up my spine and tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, drawing me close again. Hot, panting breaths mingled together, condensing at the brink of rosy flesh. I closed my eyes as all thought fled my mind, overcome by the gravity of emotions in between us. I felt starved for intimacy. I needed connection, and he was already so very close.

Tilting my head slightly to the side, I pressed my lips lightly onto his.

Tom leaned into the contact without hesitation, skimming the tip of his tongue along the surface of my upper lip.

We drank each other like cool water in the desert heat, mouths opening and tongues twisting together to move with a frantic, hungry rhythm. Two sets of hands groped everywhere at once, blindly searching for hemlines to slip under in want of bare skin and intimate touch. Soon, we were peeling the clothing away layer by layer until there was nothing left but us—two shells of people with only our brokenness to offer one another.

Our eyes met, searching for any sense of hesitation before we crossed the final line. Neither one of us backed down from the moment.

Perhaps our love would never come anywhere near the kind of love we had lost on Voyager with Harry and B'Elanna, but at least it was love. It was trust and companionship—and, yes, it was pleasure. Above all, it was human.

We could never again be what we once were, or reclaim all that we had lost.

But we could start again.

* * *

Every morning, at first light, Tuvok would slip quietly out of the ship to meditate. Even though the effects of his last mind meld with me had faded long before, I also maintained a similar habit.

I watched each new sunrise with my son.

His name was Rojel, which meant 'son of the journey.' Harry had actually stumbled across the name while reading about Bajoran culture for our wedding, and he immediately knew that he wanted it for a child. When Kes told us we were having a son, he suggested it to me. We never even considered another option.

He was always Rojel Eelo-Kim.

Slipping carefully out of Tom's embrace—I could have won awards for my ability to sneak out of bed without waking a partner—I dressed silently and made my way to the site of Rojel's grave.

Hot as it got through the day on our desert world, the mornings were always brisk. With a blanket draped around my shoulders, I dropped to my knees and nudged the tips of my fingers into the dirt.

"Soraya neryshu, ja'cheli (good morning, my beloved child)." I greeted him the way I did every day. He was the only one to whom I felt I could speak in my maternal language, and it was like our own special secret.

Little by painstaking little, the sun crept upward in the sky as I watched, and I wondered what might have been the look on Rojel's tiny face if he had been alive to share it with me. He would have been nine weeks old, had I carried him to term.

In my mind's eye, I recalled the last holoimage that Kes had projected for Harry and me, just days before I left on the scouting mission. Apart from his distinctive nose ridges, Rojel had looked so much like his father.

Closing my eyes, I allowed the swelling sorrow to roll down my cheeks and fall onto the dirt. "Do you know how much he loves you, my Rojel? Can you feel it within you, as I do every day? Would you have been brave and smart and kind like he is? Or would you have been a troublemaker like me?"

With a heavy sigh, I looked again to the rising sun. "Would he be happy that I'm beginning to move on? Has he moved on, too? Is it harder for him, with no bodies to bury and no chance to say good-bye? Oh, I wish—I wish that I knew. I wish I could see him just one more time. Just once."

Rays of sunlight blurred and wavered as my eyes filled anew with tears. Brief, fleeting moments of relief from the constant, suffocating despair; was that all my life had come to? Was that really how it would end? Had I not earned any favor from the Prophets at all?

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I whispered as I curled my fingers into the dirt and wept. "I love you. I miss you. And I'm sorry."

Sinking down to rest my forehead upon Rojel's grave, I realized for the first time that Tom was absolutely right to fear the consequences of my grief. I was depressed, and I had no way to treat it at all. I had thought that I was fine simply because I carried on with daily tasks, but of all people I should have known better.

In spite of everything, I still wanted nothing more than to bury myself with my son.

But I had promised Tom that I would not let it take me; I would endure it and carry on for him. I refused to let him down. I determined, right there as I wept into the dirt, that I would lean into the pain and survive for as long as I could.

The Prophets may have abandoned me, but I would not abandon myself. I would show them what an Eelo was made of.

* * *

Early that same evening, as Noss and I cooked dinner, Tom stumbled in the door bracing a barely-conscious Tuvok on his shoulders. Quickly, I cleared the candles off of the low-slung table while Noss helped Tom to maneuver Tuvok carefully on top of it.

"We were ambushed," Tom explained as I retrieved the closest medkit. "They got away with a pair of resonator coils that we found." Flipping open the medical tricorder I handed him, Tom began taking a scan while Noss cradled Tuvok's head in her arms. "Three fractured ribs, internal bleeding. Tal, I need a vascular regenerator."

I did my best to assist as Tom worked to stabilize Tuvok's condition. Within a few minutes, Tom's tense demeanor relaxed. "I've stopped the internal bleeding," he reported with a sigh of relief.

"Will he live?" Noss asked.

"Yes." Tom's voice was kind and reassuring. "He will live."

She smiled down at Tuvok and caressed his face, though I don't know if he was aware of anything at all.

After Tom had repaired Tuvok's fractured ribs and administered a sedative so he could sleep, we gently transferred him from the table to the same pallet on the floor that had long been my own place of rest. Without a word, Noss settled down beside him.

Just as well; dinner was ruined anyway.

Taking Tom's hand in mine, I led him silently from the room.

* * *

I was just beginning to float into unconsciousness, curled like a child against Tom's chest, when I heard Noss' sharp, pained tones carry over from the main room. I moved to get up, but Tom stopped me and shook his head.

"Go back to sleep," he soothed, pressing a kiss against my forehead. "I'll check on them."

The bed felt suddenly cold after he left, and I drew the blanket tighter around myself.

I tried to stay awake until Tom returned, but he was gone a long time. As I strained to listen, I could hear the sounds of murmured conversation between him and Noss coming from the corridor; it sounded emotional, but not panicked. It seemed, for the moment, that there was no real emergency.

So, as the weight of my eyelids became too much to bear, I finally let sleep take me.

* * *

After watching the sunrise with Rojel the next morning, I reentered the ship and was surprised to hear Noss muttering to herself in her native language as she stood over a steaming pot of spider meat. When I asked if she was okay, she simply looked at me with tears in her red-rimmed and exhausted eyes. Instead of pushing whatever issue was bothering her, I offered to take over making breakfast.

She shook her head and turned away from me, clearly indicating that she wanted to be left alone.

Slipping out of the kitchen, I made my way back to the bunk I shared with Tom. Considering what little I had overheard the night before, I figured that he might be able to tell me what had happened. Strangely enough, he wasn't there.

So I decided to grab some tools and recalibrate the distress beacon while I waited for everyone to return to the ship for breakfast. I was just finishing up my work when a wave of dizziness suddenly overwhelmed me, leaving me gasping for air. As I struggled to regain control over my breathing, and waited for my heart to find a steady rhythm again, I registered flashes of lightning in my periphery.

 _No_ , I realized as I looked up at the sky. _That isn't lightning._

Something was happening to the anomaly.

Scrambling for my tricorder, I flipped it open and set it to measure the gravitational forces of the planet; they were fluctuating. It was a mild distortion—lucky for us, otherwise it could knock the planet out of its orbit and kill us all. Yet, if the gravity at the threshold of the anomaly was distorting, could it be on the verge of collapse?

And if the anomaly did collapse, what would happen to us?

As another distortion registered on the tricorder, my head once again began to swim. I closed my eyes against the uneasy feelings, willing myself to weather the spell and keep on breathing. When my heart's tempo caught up to the shift, I opened my eyes to find that I had accidentally changed the settings on my tricorder. I was just about to change it back when I realized that something was very odd about the readings it displayed.

My brow furrowed, then jumped as I suddenly realized—

"Tal!"

I glanced up from my tricorder readings at the sound of Tom's frantic voice. He and Tuvok both rushed towards me at a hasty jog. When Tom stopped to kneel in front of me, I reached a shaky hand out to grab him. My tricorder fell to the ground with a clatter.

The look in his eyes went from concern to dread. "Tal? Are you with me? Do you need help?"

I groped in the dirt with my hands as I fought off the nausea and dizziness and lack of oxygen. "Tricorder," I gasped. "I need—"

Taking a knee next to Tom, Tuvok retrieved the device from behind a rock and pressed it into my shaky hands. "What have you found, Commander?"

I didn't want to spend the breath it would take to respond, so instead I set up a split scan to compare the two functions I had unintentionally flipped between. Then, I handed it back to Tuvok. "Gravity. Distortion. Time."

Tuvok pondered my words and their meaning for the scans, but Tom's patience with me was up. Gathering me in his arms, he lifted me off the ground and carried me back to the ship.

I had to make them understand. "Time!" I shouted at Tuvok over Tom's shoulder before descending into a coughing fit.

I was livid with myself by the time Tom set me down on the palate in the main room. How had I not figured it out before?

Quickly, Tom snapped open a medkit and pulled out a medical tricorder to check my vitals. "Your heart is having problems keeping a steady pace," he murmured.

Like a hard slap to the face, his words gave me a second epiphany. Suddenly, I knew what was happening to me—why my heart kept falling out of time. I grabbed Tom's hand. "Gravity. It's the... gravity."

"Tal, please let me scan you. I need to know how to treat you."

"No, ah—" I took as deep a breath as I possibly could. I had to get these words out. "Listen, please. My heart. Is out of sync. With gravity. Temporal distortions."

"What?"

"Gravity. Distorts. Time. You see?"

Tom gave me a blank stare as he tried to understand my meaning. Then, mere seconds later, an alarm sounded in the cockpit of the ship.

"What's happening?" Tom shouted, hoping Noss would hear.

His answer came instead from Tuvok, who was just stepping through the doorway. "We are receiving a transmission through the distress beacon."

Tom's eyes went wide. Snapping the tricorder shut, he quickly loaded a hypospray and gave it to me.

Trioxin. Yes. I inhaled deeply. It was only a stopgap, but at least I could breathe again.

Together, we made our way into the cockpit where Noss routed the transmission through her com system. Although Tom was confused when the transmission was nothing but one very deep and drawn out tone, Tuvok knew right away what needed to be done.

The playback needed to be recalibrated to account for the temporal differential between us and normal space, caused by the heavily distorted gravity.

I wept at the sound of Captain Janeway's voice.

'Voyager to away team. A transporter beam with a radius of two meters will activate at the coordinates of your distress beacon in exactly thirty minutes. Be advised, we've detected a temporal difference between our two positions. According to our calculations, the differential ratio is point four seven four four seconds per minute.'

We were saved.

* * *

When we materialized on the transporter pad, there was a brief moment of perfect bliss in which my eyes locked onto Harry's from across the room, and he smiled. His smile quickly faded with the dawning of a dreadful realization that I was not carrying a baby with me.

The pain came on so fast that I barely had time to register it. All I knew was that the next breath I took came with unspeakable agony. I felt as if someone had dropped a shuttle on my chest. Somewhere nearby, I heard a woman screaming.

That woman was me. I was the one screaming, rapidly expelling the last precious breath I had been able to take into myself.

And when that breath was gone, my empty body hit the deck.

* * *

 _Note: The timetable of Gravity is all over the place, so I just did what I wanted._


	21. The Paths We Choose

**The Paths We Choose**

 _CW: Grief for pregnancy loss_

* * *

I awoke to the sound of hushed voices near my head.

"You need to eat sometime."

"I'm not leaving her, Captain."

"Do I have to make it an order, Lieutenant?"

"Captain—"

I sucked in a deep, full breath and blinked against the light assaulting my eyes. Immediately, the conversation stopped, and somebody grabbed my hand.

"Talia."

"Harry?" I turned my head towards the sound of his voice and squinted to lessen the pain of bright lights. I needed to see his face.

A hand—large and warm—rested gently against my cheek. "I'm here, ja'Talia. I'm right here."

My eyes were finally adjusting to the light, and his features came into view. One by one, I swept my gaze over them—gently sloped jawline, full pink lips, hooded brown eyes, short black hair. With my free hand, I reached for him, still not entirely convinced that he was real. As I grasped the front of his uniform jacket with curling fingers, then flattened my palm against his chest to feel his heartbeat, my vision blurred with tears.

He was real. He was real, and I was home. But something was missing. Someone.

Rojel had been left behind.

When that sudden realization sunk into my consciousness, I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. "No," I whimpered, my voice cracked like glass. "He's gone. I couldn't—Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Harry tried to calm me down—reassuring me that it wasn't my fault, that I'd had no other choice—but I couldn't accept it. I had failed my own son. I had left him behind.

I repeated my frantic apologies until Kes appeared in my line of sight, snatched one of my hands away from Harry's to grasp tightly in her own, and stared down at me with a fearsome intensity that commanded my attention.

 _Talia, focus on me._ Her free hand came to rest above my heart. _Feel me. Feel Harry. Feel Captain Janeway. Feel the entire crew. Know our love; let it wrap around you. Feel Rojel, woven into the fabric of the universe. He is not gone. You have not abandoned him. He is a part of you, always._

Closing my eyes, I continued to weep as I let her words permeate every part of me. I could feel everyone in the room the way Kes did—sensing the depths of their pain, and of their love. I knew Kes was right, but—

"It still hurts," I sobbed.

"I know," she said.

"I don't want him out there. I want him here, with me."

"I know that, too, Talia."

She did know. She was connected to me deeply, feeling my emotions as if they were her own. Kes held my hand firmly, Harry clung to the other, and Kathryn looked on silently. All of them wept with me. I didn't have to see them with my eyes; I simply knew.

With a deep and shuddering sigh, I allowed the last of my tears to fall. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmingly exhausted.

 _Sleep_ , Kes implored me.

So I did, and soon I was dreaming that I held Rojel as he cooed happily in my arms.

I had heard many mothers tell me about the ineffable new depths of love they discovered upon the birth of their first children, but nothing could have prepared me for the actual feeling. As I gazed upon his dark eyes, chubby cheeks, noble Eelo nose ridges, and the dusting of black hair already sprouting from the top of his head, I was lost. Not even Harry could compete with the little man I held against my breast.

Waking from that dream was heartbreaking. Yet, it was also strangely healing.

I knew inherently that the image had come from Kes; I begged her to share it with Harry, as well, and she gave it to us both at once. Together, Harry and I smiled down at our handsome firstborn. We said hello, and we said goodbye. When it was over, and Kes returned to her work in the lab, Harry and I clung tightly to one another as we wept for our son.

* * *

On another day, I woke to find Tuvok standing guard over me. In response to the confused look I gave him, he simply said that he had temporarily relieved Harry of his post at my beside in sickbay in order that he might eat a meal. He then informed me that we were near to Noss' homeworld, and that she planned to visit me soon so she could tell me goodbye.

He seemed… disappointed.

"You should show her," I said as he helped me sit up.

"How would that benefit the present situation?"

"If she understands the reason why you made the choice that you did, then she will be better able to reconcile her emotions." I offered him a tilted half-smile. "It's only logical."

Tuvok favored me with the tick of an eyebrow; I had amused him. "I will take your advice into consideration, Commander."

I wanted to ask him how he was doing, but it wasn't the time or place for such a sensitive and private topic. Perhaps when I was recovered, I should suggest a psychological evaluation, but that would have to wait. Instead, I asked him to tell me stories about his children when they were young.

He obliged my request, and the rest of our time passed with familiar, comfortable ease.

* * *

As my recovery dragged on, a handful of crew members volunteered to keep me company in shifts so that Harry could have peace of mind as he returned to duty. Most of the time, they simply sat and read quietly while I dozed off; it was surprisingly exhausting having nanoprobes regenerate heart tissue that had nearly been worn to death, and I slept more often than anything.

Many others came by for shorter visits during my confinement to sickbay. I often missed the visits due to how much I slept, but knowing that they came at all was enough. It was moving to have such a demonstration of love from the Voyager family, and helped to make my days brighter.

Iliana came once and, for the very first time, recounted every memory she had of her own lost son. She didn't cry; when she finished, she simply stood and, without saying another word to me, walked out of sickbay. I wept after she left, for I realized that she understood my pain better than anyone. Beyond that, I had finally begun to understand hers.

Yet, I also became miserably aware of the fact that two significant people had not come to see me at all—Tom and B'Elanna. I asked Harry about it, but the look on his face told me that he wished I hadn't.

Evidently, Tom explained everything to Harry before I even woke up for the first time. From the beginning, Harry insisted to me that he understood why my relationship with Tom had developed that way, and that it didn't change anything for him. Were my instincts sharper, I might have questioned him on that point; as it was, I simply accepted his ever-steady devotion.

Tom didn't fare so well. His absence from sickbay was not a mistake; ever since our return to Voyager, he distanced himself from me and from Harry. But no amount of distance could fix what he and I had broken—the trust that his girlfriend had once placed in him.

When B'Elanna ended their relationship, Tom was devastated.

Our once tightly-knit group had been shredded completely. For almost five years, we four had leaned on each other for everything. Even when the ship was in turmoil over Maquis-Starfleet divisions, our friendship was unshakable. Now, the other three could barely even look at each other.

Harry trembled and held my hand more tightly than usual as he explained it to me. Up until then, he had seemed on the surface to be managing his grief with the same graceful resilience that had carried him through war against the Krenim and losing Lyndsay Ballard. But the look in his eyes made me realize that it had all been for my benefit. He was terrified of my reaction to the news—so much so that he seemed on the verge of collapse.

Why? Why was everyone so afraid of giving me bad news? Hadn't I proven, time and again, that I could handle worse? And what good would come of protecting me from reality anyway?

The fact of the matter was that I had initiated a sexual relationship with Tom, and it changed everything.

The fact of the matter was that I, Voyager's Chief Science Officer, should have known about the temporal differential from the beginning. But I didn't even look. Instead, I gave up. Harry tried to reassure me with every possible platitude he could think of to offer in a desperate attempt to hold the fragmented pieces of my psyche together.

For his sake, I did my best to accept them. He lost his son, he nearly lost his wife, and then he lost his two best friends. The least I could do was alleviate some of the worry over my flailing sanity.

I found that trusty old box inside of myself—the one in which I had learned to lock everything bad while I was with the Maquis—and I crammed my pain into it. I would recover from my injury, return to my duties, reenter my marriage bed, and relearn how to be the person I was before any of this had ever happened.

I would figure out a way, somehow, to live with it.

* * *

The day after Harry told me about Tom and B'Elanna, Schmullis released me back to my quarters under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous physical activity.

That was when the nightmares started.

For several nights, it was the same sequence. I would find myself kneeling before Rojel's grave, my fingers nudged into the dirt. Tom would carry me onto Voyager and wash my hands, but the dirt never came off. It corrupted everything I touched—smearing across Tom's sweaty skin, sticking to Harry's gentle hands, smudging on glassy PADD screens, and soiling my uniform.

Then, one night, it changed.

In the dream, I fled to my bathroom and frantically tried to wash the dirt away. I scrubbed my hands until they bled, yet I could not come clean. As I lifted my hands up in front of my face to examine them, something in the mirror above the sink caught my eye.

It was an image of my mother as a Borg drone

Her appearance was exactly the way I had seen it two years prior, in a vision from the Prophet who had temporarily accompanied me in order to guide Voyager in driving Species 8472 from our galaxy. I had long puzzled over that image—my assimilated mother intercepting me as I attempted to escape a Borg attack on Cardassia Prime, warning me of the dangers posed to the Alpha Quadrant by the Borg and 8472. What could the Prophet have been trying to show me? It made no sense.

But 8472 was gone, and so was the Prophet. Why was I seeing Marnah like this again?

She held her grey, implant-clad hands in front of her face exactly as I did. When I tentatively reached out with one of my hands to touch the mirror, she did the same. Our fingers met together on the surface of the glass. For a brief moment, it was just this.

"This isn't real," I told myself.

Then, the image moved on its own, no longer mirroring me. Marnah looked right at me, her eyes grey and cold. When she spoke, she spoke with the voice of billions. "The locusts have swarmed Cardassia. Bajor is divided. They will attempt to resist. They will fail. We are the Borg."

My muscles seized as some unseen force squeezed hard inside my chest. _Again_? This wasn't supposed to happen; Schmullis and Kes had implanted a host of modified nanoprobes in my heart to regenerate tissue that was too damaged to repair with traditional surgery, and to maintain the organ's proper function. There was no way the nanoprobes would allow anything to—

 _Wait_.

"You will be assimilated."

Cybernetic implants began erupting from underneath my skin, spidering along my body and taking over everything. Dirt and blood smeared down the mirror in long streaks as my fingers curled into claws against the glass.

"Resistance is futile."

I balled my hand into a fist and smashed it into the mirror, shattering the horrifying image reflected there. "NO!"

"You will be perfected."

 _Made clean_ , I realized as I watched my mutilated hand heal itself—the work of Borg nanoprobes. _Is this the only way to be clean? Assimilation?_

Then, from somewhere deep within my pagh, I felt a warm wind swelling up, flowing out, and swirling all around me. Carried on it was the sound of my mother's calm and steady voice, exactly as I had always known it. "Remember who you are, ja'ital. Speak it to the universe. Who are you?"

My eyes fluttered closed, and I took a deep breath. "I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor." The assimilation process instantly stopped.

"Again," Marnah demanded.

"I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor." Implants dissolved into dust, tickling my skin as the wind swept them away.

"Again!"

"I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor."

"What can you offer to the Prophets?"

"Ah'no talin'serakem." I am strong-hearted.

"Are you willing?"

I withheld the expected reply.

"Eelo Talia of Bajor," she demanded, "do you walk the path of the Prophets?"

I opened my eyes and stared hard at the shattered mirror above my sink. The drone was gone, replaced by a fractured image of myself. "No, Marnah. I do not."

"Ja'cheli, have I not taught you to always walk the path of the Prophets?"

I clenched my fists, which had dropped to my sides. "You did. But I am not you."

"Whose path have you chosen to walk, then?"

"I walk the path that I, and I alone, choose for myself."

"And who are you?"

"I am Eelo Talia of Bajor and of Earth. I have lived for too long with a Terran soul and a Bajoran pagh at war for authority in my spirit, but I no longer accept that they must be divided. I will not choose one over the other. The time for division is over; we must stand together, or we will fall."

"This path will bring you pain, ja'ital. Pain even worse than what you have already known. Pain you cannot begin to imagine. I cannot stop it if you will not."

I nodded, and swallowed hard. "Abrem," I said. Let it be as it will be. It was a passive acceptance of my fate, standing in stark contrast to the Eelo family ethos.

If we might, then we must.

That ideal had been what made my ancestors great warriors, generals, and politicians—ardent refusal to simply let the Prophets have their way. It drove the religious leaders crazy; we were the ones who wrestled with the Prophets. We served them with fierce devotion, but we never accepted that their will must only be up to them. For us, faith wasn't submissive servitude, because we were not submissive servants. That was why we were leaders.

And so, with one single word, I simultaneously rejected and embodied my Eelo family heritage in a way the Prophets had never seen before. The d'jarra was finished, and I was not bound to follow it. If I was going to lead, it would be from a place of freedom—the way my father had showed me all of my life, the way Chakotay had in the Maquis, and the way Kathryn had these last five years.

It was the only way forward.

The wind dissipated like a sigh, and I found myself lying face-up in an otherwise empty bed; Harry had taken over gamma shift in my place, so he was likely to still be watching the bridge. I blinked, willing my eyes to adjust to the thick darkness of my quarters. Soon, I realized that there was a figure standing over me.

Due to my lingering depression, every one of my weapons had been confiscated.

"Computer, lights!"

It was Alixia. She was smiling.

"Wha—what the hell are you doing here?" I gasped. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Her voice was flat and dissociative. "It is time."

My mind reeled. "Time? Time for what? Alixia?"

"You have passed the next test. You are ready to face the fire." Then, with a flash, she was gone.

I don't know how long I sat there, my fatigued mind trying to process what had just happened. It felt surreal, like Alixia had been a part of the dream and not real life—or was it a vision? Had the Prophets somehow sent me another vision? Surely, although they seemed to live within the Bajoran wormhole that my people referred to as the Celestial Temple, reaching across any amount of distance was no issue for them.

 _Did I just tell off the Prophets?_

As my mind finally began to clear, and I consciously came to the conclusion that Alixia had been real, the voice of reason within my mind finally spoke.

 _You need to tell the captain._

"Yes," I whispered to myself. I unclenched my fingers, which had been twisted into my bedsheets, and shifted towards the nightstand to retrieve my combadge. When my eyes fell upon my extended hands, I suddenly froze. Lifting them up in front of my face, I began to examine them closely in the light of reality.

They were clean.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head vigorously. _Stop being stupid, Eelo. Com the captain._

But I never got the chance.

The whole ship lurched violently with the impact of weapons fire. My hands, which had been once more extended towards my combadge, reflexively dropped to the mattress to brace me as I absorbed the shock that the inertial dampeners had not.

Immediately, the red alert klaxon began to blare throughout the ship.

"All hands, report to battle stations," came Harry's sure voice over the intercom.

It was miserable knowing that, for perhaps the first time I could remember, the order did not extend to me. My recovery was progressing very well, but I still hadn't been cleared for duty. Since when had I actually wished for battle and danger and crisis to throw myself into?

 _You know the answer, Talia. Since always. It's who you are._

It was the Eelo in me.

Without another thought, I scrambled out of bed and to my feet, racing from the bedroom towards the viewport in the main area of my quarters. I pressed my palms and face against the glassy material, straining to see who it was we were battling. Almost any evasive maneuvers that Janeway ordered Tom to execute would, at some point, angle Voyager in such a way as to put them within my limited line of sight.

 _Or, you could tap into the ships systems from your desktop and get any information you want._

For a brief moment, Equinox darted around Voyager and passed through my field of vision. Still, I could not see our adversary. Just as I was about to abandon the viewport in favor of the LCARS, Tom swung Voyager around, narrowly dodging a bright-green focused energy beam.

When my eyes fell upon a small, oblong Borg vessel, my heart dropped off a cliff and into my gut.

 _You will be assimilated._

My fingers curled against the surface of the viewport. My chest ached, and my breath came shorter and faster. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew that I had to calm down. I had to control my breathing.

 _You will be perfected._

I closed my eyes and slid my hands down to grip the edges of the viewport as Voyager shook again. "I am Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia of the Federation Starship Voyager. And I will not be assimilated."

A flash of light registered through my closed eyelids, and I snapped them open to see the Borg vessel explode in a brilliant but fleeting show of orange and white. Then, it was over. The red alert was rescinded, and Voyager came to an all-stop. Debris floated lifelessly through space.

Had our tiny two-ship fleet truly just defeated a Borg vessel? Alone?

I was still pasted to the viewport when the door chimed. "Come in."

The doors hissed open, but I didn't turn. No doubt it was one of Schmullis' staff come to check on me. My vitals must have been off the charts, and he monitored them remotely at all times.

"Are you alright, Talia?"

My muscles instantly relaxed at the sound of Kes' voice. Few people in the universe had the calming effect that Kes exuded so effortlessly. Not even Alixia had inherited that trait.

My mind jolted to a stop, snagged on that last thought. _Alixia_.

The ambiance of the room grew suddenly cold. "Have you seen her?" Kes asked quietly, her tone weighted with concern.

I nodded, tightening my fingers again around the edge of the viewport.

 _Where is she?_ Kes' anxiety was beyond words, but I could sense the thoughts she projected with perfect clarity. _What happened? What did she show you?_

That was when I realized the vision had not come directly from the Prophets; it was from Alixia. She had ascended, fulfilling the potential that Susperia showed her. She had tested me and found me ready for the next challenge. Then, like a Q, she vanished.

Was this Borg attack also a test—a test for Voyager and Equinox? For Janeway and Ransom? Part of me was too weary to care. Another part of me wanted to jump to high warp and run.

Yet I held firmly to my rational center, and turned to face Kes. "We need to meet with Captain Janeway. Now."


	22. Swallowing Fire

**Swallowing Fire**  
 _Sources: VOY 5x15 Dark Frontier, 6x26 Unimatrix Zero  
CW: Psychotic disturbance_

* * *

Captain Janeway said very little after I described to her and Kes what I had seen in my vision, and the sense I had about Alixia's part in it. I had expected a stronger reaction from Kes at the sudden departure of her daughter, but she silently nodded her acceptance as if she had been anticipating it.

Perhaps she had been waiting for this day ever since our experience with Susperia.

The suddenness with which that thought struck me made my brow cinch in the middle. Kes had said almost nothing after we were returned to Voyager from the Ocampan colony, instead insisting that it was for Captain Janeway's ears only. Somehow, I had a feeling that it had just become very relevant information.

"How are Annika and I connected to this?" I blurted without preamble. "Why did Susperia take us?"

Kes exchanged a glance with Janeway.

I had expected them to be confused by my questions, but the captain ordered, "Bring up the file, Doctor. It's time."

With a nod, Kes walked quickly to my desk and typed in her clearance code to access my medical records. She then entered a different code, which opened a file that I had never seen before—an in-depth analysis of my genome.

I glanced from the screen, to Kes, and then to the captain. "I don't understand."

"You already know," Janeway said evenly, "as does any medical professional who accesses your records, that you are classified as a bioengineered interspecies hybrid."

"Yes," I answered warily, my defenses instantly raised. "Fertility treatments allow for genetic compatibility, but mutations often occur that cause devastating side effects. DNA resequencing is medically necessary in many interspecies pregnancies."

"Of course, and it is approved by the Federation council for such cases. However, careful study of your genome suggests something beyond the scope of preventing serious birth defects. There is evidence to suggest that your DNA has been intentionally enhanced."

My stomach dropped. "No. No way. It's not possible. The whole process was carefully observed by Starfleet doctors, and was signed off by the proper authorities."

"It was," she acknowledged, "but I have reason to believe—"

"Well, you're wrong!" My voice grew loud as anger boiled over. I didn't care that she was my commanding officer. How dare she even suggest such a thing?

Gritting my teeth, I did my best to maintain some calm. "It's clearly stated in my record. Fertility treatments weren't working, so my parents took leave in between missions. I was created at Starfleet Medical. They stayed on Earth until the doctors were sure that I would—"

The last word stuck inside my throat. _Survive_. I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.

Janeway looked at me sadly. "Talia—"

"When they returned to duty," I continued forcibly, "Starfleet assigned a specialist to accompany them."

"Why?" Kes asked gently.

"Because of the mutations that manifested from the procedure. It wasn't something that could be corrected all at once. I needed several surgeries. Controversial surgeries."

"That must have been difficult."

I shrugged. "I honestly don't remember. It was all done by the time we were transferred to the _USS Hepburn._ " In the silence that followed, my eyes sunk to the floor as I processed the dawning realization that the captain's claim was, in fact, very plausible. "I was only two years old," I murmured.

"Talia," Kes said. "Listen to me. You are not being accused of anything. But this is why Susperia took you from Voyager. I know this because she questioned me about it. It's the same reason she took Crewman Hansen."

I looked up at Kes, shock scrawled across my face. "Annika is—"

"A genetically enhanced human," she finished. "Yes. Her DNA was resequenced by the Borg after she was assimilated."

"And me?" I asked, looking quickly back and forth between the two women. "How could my case have possibly been approved if I—if I've been—"

"Kes," Janeway cut in, "would you excuse us, please?"

"Yes, Captain," she said. Kes logged herself out of the console and then exited my quarters.

Closing the distance between us, Captain Janeway placed her hands on my shoulders and gave me a reassuring look. "Talia, I am truly sorry that you had to find out like this. At the moment, only Kes, Tuvok and I know; I have said nothing to Dr. Schmullis or to Starfleet. But I have to ask, because it might be important. Do you know anything at all about a specialized Federation intelligence agency called Section 31?"

That was not a question I had been expecting. I shook my head and stuttered, "No, I—Wait, what? Federation?"

"That's right.

"No, I've never heard of anything like that."

"I suspected as much, but I had to ask. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and I believe that your mother may have been working for them. We also believe that they were the reason why your mother and your teachers pushed you towards the intelligence track. We think Section 31 was grooming you to become an agent, and that after you earned your commission as a counselor instead, they actively manipulated you into aiding in your mother's mission."

"Which was—?"

"To cripple the Cardassian Union and neutralize the threat that they posed to the Federation."

I was speechless. My eyes slipped shut and my chest heaved with labored breaths as my mind tried to absorb the new information.

The captain's hands moved from my shoulder to wrap around my upper arms. "Talia." Her tone was both commanding and concerned, calling my attention back to her.

My eyes snapped open as one single thought surfaced in my mind. "Iliana. She knew, didn't she? This is what she thought I was overlooking—the truth she believed that I knew but didn't want to see."

"Yes, she knows. Or, rather, the Obsidian Order was suspicious of it. She does not, however, know about your medical history—at least, not as far as we can tell. The only reason we know is because Kes brought it to my attention when you and Harry consulted with her about getting pregnant."

A long string of sounds came then, unspooling from my tongue. Given the look that settled over the captain's face, the whole lot had either come out as nonsense, or untranslatable Bajoran. Or both.

The very next thing I noticed were the tremors in my knees. They were on the verge of buckling underneath me, but the captain's grip on my arms held me steady.

"Come on," she ordered gently as she directed me to the closest chair. "Sit."

I did not resist her guidance in the least.

Kathryn knelt on the floor as she guided my head between my knees and waited patiently for me to recover from the shock of what she had told me.

When it passed, I looked up to find her eyes. "Do you think that she—my mother, or this agency—do you think they were trying to _design_ me to be an agent?"

"I think it's possible."

I ran a hand over my face. "What about my siblings?"

"I don't know, Talia. We don't have their medical records. But you are the one that mattered most."

"Because I'm the first-born daughter," I finished. "The inheritor of my mother's family's power. I'm their foot-in with the traditionalists and surviving nobility on Bajor."

"Yes."

"Except, if the traditionalists were ever going to get behind me, I would need to be fully Bajoran." I paused as an even sharper realization slipped between my ribs like a knife. "Am I related to my father at all?"

The captain hesitated, studying my eyes intently for several seconds before she answered with a shake of her head. "No, Talia. You're not. It was very careful work—so careful that even Doctor Schmullis missed it. Kes said that there are a number of genes common to both Bajorans and Terrans; your records claim that some of those came from your father and were simply resequenced during gestation to match the dominant Bajoran physiology. But when she took a closer look at your DNA, she concluded that they couldn't possibly have come from a Terran. You are fully Bajoran."

 _'I am of Bajor.'_

Kathryn's hands wrapped around my own. "Talia, I need you to tell me if this stresses you out too much—if I need to get you to sickbay."

I shook my head. "I'm fine, Captain. My heart is fine. It's just—it's a lot to take."

"I know. And I am sorry that I had to keep so much from you—"

"I didn't want to know." I looked down at my trembling hands, held tightly in hers. "This is why I didn't want to know. I told you that when I turned over my old data bank. I wasn't ready for it then."

"And now?"

I closed my eyes, wringing out the tears that had welled up until they dripped down onto our joined hands. Truthfully, I still was not ready and might not ever be. Yet, I knew as well as she did that the universe did not wait on us before laying down the next card; life carried on regardless.

"I'll deal with it," I said.

"I know you will," the captain replied.

The tone in which she had spoken compelled me to open my eyes and look at her once again. In her face, I found compassion and assurance. She believed in me, just as she always had. "Captain," I murmured, "I'm sorry I yelled before. I was out of line."

Her lips quirked to one side. "You're off-duty. It doesn't count."

It was a load of shit and we both knew it, but I smiled anyway and squeezed her hands in thanks. "In that case, I'm sorry for yelling at you, _Kathryn_. I should have more faith in you than what I showed."

"Considering what you've been through lately, I think I can let it go."

* * *

The following morning, Dr. Schmullis hesitantly released me for light duty. Donning my uniform for the first time in seven months—by my experience, at least—I stepped into the conference room and took my seat at the table. Having entered from the corridor behind the bridge, rather than the bridge itself, my arrival was met with several surprised looks.

A muscle twitched in B'Elanna's cheek, and her glance lingered for less than a second before fixing on the surface of the table.

Tom gaped at me for a long moment, and I offered him a half-smile. He blinked, gave a perfunctory nod, and looked away.

Chakotay's look spoke of pained acceptance.

Tuvok twitched his brow.

Schmullis scowled, still resentful about how hard Captain Janeway had leaned on him to let me back on duty. I felt fine, and Kes assured us that I would be alright as long as I took it easy.

I didn't even look at Harry. He had been quite unhappy when he found out that the captain delayed the morning meeting in order to accommodate my return to duty. We hadn't had a chance to talk about it in private, although I honestly didn't want to.

It was my life, not his. I wanted to return to duty. The captain needed me, and Dr. Kes said it was safe. As far as I was concerned, that settled it.

Still, I felt the heat of his glare follow me across the room.

The tension was interrupted when Captain Janeway arrived with Annika, Iliana, and Captain Ransom in tow. While her guests quietly slipped into the empty chairs that had been added to the far end of the table by command aides, Janeway strode over to the computer panel and called up a diagram onto the viewscreen.

When she stepped back, we all took in the computerized image of a Borg sphere rotating on the viewer. It had been severely damaged, and was regenerating as it traveled at low warp through a nearby unpopulated sector of space.

"What we have here in two simple words," Janeway began, "is Fort Knox."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Captain?"

"Tom? Care to translate?"

Tom startled slightly at the captain's request, but quickly recovered enough to explain. "Fort Knox. The largest repository of gold bullion in Earth's history. Over fifty metric tons, worth over nine trillion U.S. dollars."

"Keep going."

"Uh, when the new world economy took shape in the late twenty-second century and money went the way of the dinosaur, Fort Knox was turned into a museum."

"And no one ever managed to break into that facility, right?"

"Well, a couple of Ferengi tried about ten years ago. But other than that, it's considered impenetrable."

Ransom shifted forward in his seat. "Are you planning a heist, Captain?"

Janeway's mouth turned up at the corners. "As a matter of fact, I am. Except we're not chasing gold. We're going to steal a couple of transwarp coils. Think those might come in handy?"

B'Elanna let out a sharp exhale, the previous tension momentarily forgotten. "If I could equip our engines with even one coil, we could shave about twenty years off this trip."

Tuvok eyed the viewer skeptically. "Do you believe the Borg sphere is damaged enough for us to penetrate its defenses?"

The captain nodded. "Long enough to take what we want and get out in one piece. But we'd have to plan this operation down to the millisecond. There would be no margin for error. And, there is another objective for this mission." She looked to Annika. "Crewman?"

Annika gave a single nod to the captain before turning her gaze to the rest of us at the table. "As most of you are already aware, I have been receiving periodic transmissions during my regeneration cycles by way of the Turei Communications Network. The signal is sent on a triaxilating modulation and links into my neural transceiver, connecting my conscious mind into a network of minds. It is known to the others within it as Unimatrix Zero. It is a virtual construct in which the consciousness of tens of thousands of drones exist as individuals."

"What does this have to do with our sphere?" Chakotay inquired, glancing between Annika and the captain.

"For decades," Annika quickly answered, "the individuals within Unimatrix Zero have been unable to merge their two separate lives. Most have been there since childhood, as I evidently was. However, memories do not transfer between there and the real world. As such, they are powerless to act."

"Act, how?" Ransom asked.

"To take advantage of the opportunity they have to break away from the Collective. Or, to defensively address their more recent concern. Unimatrix Zero has existed for decades without interference from the Collective, and it was unknown whether the Collective was even aware of its existence. But, approximately two weeks ago, according to Federation Standard Time, the Borg Collective began taking aggressive action to dismantle Unimatrix Zero."

B'Elanna shifted in her seat. "Well, this is all very interesting, but why does this matter to us?"

"Because they requested our assistance," I murmured. All eyes snapped to me, and I felt myself reflexively withdrawing under the weight of their judgment. I glanced nervously at Annika. "At-at least, I'm guessing they have, given our previous conversations on the subject."

Annika nodded. "That is correct, Commander." Sharp blue eyes slid away from mine to fix upon B'Elanna's incredulous glare. "And it is my understanding that when we receive a distress call, we respond. Starfleet protocols."

"She's right," Harry interjected. "This is no different."

With that, Janeway stepped into the discussion. "I understand your reluctance. But the way I see it, Annika has discovered a potential weakness in the Collective. If we can give these people the ability to remember who they truly are outside of Unimatrix Zero, they can begin to fight back against the Borg from within the Collective."

 _'The hive must be destroyed as one.'_

Without thinking, my eyes jumped from the captain to Chakotay—the only other person who had seen that first vision I received from the Prophets about our purpose in the Delta Quadrant. His mouth twitched at the corners; it was a tell that few people would catch, but it meant that he approved of the mission.

He leaned forward in his seat. "How are we going to do that?"

Kathryn's eyes lit up at the sight of Chakotay's support. She had noticed his tell. This wasn't going to be another 8472 argument. It was an extremely dangerous plan, that was certain. But this time, she had him whole-heartedly on her side.

My eyes slipped closed as I took a deep breath at the sight of their wordless interaction. If both halves of our command team were so united on the mission objectives, then we stood a good chance of succeeding against any odds. God help the force that stood in between those two and what they wanted to achieve together.

When my eyes opened again, the captain's gaze had been redirected towards the end of the table. I followed its path just in time to catch a sly smile slice across Iliana's face.

"The same way you infiltrate any computer system, Commander," purred the ex-Obsidian Order agent, her dark eyes sliding from Janeway to Chakotay. "We're going to infect their network with a virus."

His eyes narrowed slightly at her—he would never be able to completely forgive the evils she had committed against him, and nobody blamed him in the least for it—yet he swallowed his feelings and accepted her statement with a single nod.

"And how are we going to deploy this virus?" Ransom asked gruffly.

"I will act as a carrier for the virus," Annika answered. "While the away teams are securing two of the sphere's transwarp coils, I will infiltrate the vessel's central plexus and download the virus."

"Brilliant," Harry commented.

"Uh," Tom interjected, "I'm sorry, but can someone please explain to me what a 'central plexus' is?"

"It's like a network router for the Borg Collective consciousness," Harry answered. "It connects every Borg ship, colony, and planet together into one unified system."

"So, deploying the virus there means that it gets transmitted to the entire Collective?"

"Yep. Instantly."

The prospect was exciting, and it buoyed the staff's spirits. Finally, we had a role to play on behalf of the Federation rather than simply trying to get back to it. This could be the turning point in ridding the galaxy of the ever-present threat posed by the Borg.

Yet, I struggled to share in their renewed hope.

My fingers clenched into tight fists as I fought against the sensations crawling underneath my skin. Nanoprobes turning against their intended purpose, taking over every cell within. Dirt embedding itself into every pore, transforming me into an irredeemable extension of a planet that I had never truly escaped. Two forces were at war for control of my body and mind—both intent on erasing the person I had worked so hard to become, and enforcing a darker destiny upon me that I was running out of strength to resist.

 _'Resistance is futile.'_

"Commander Eelo."

Captain Janeway's firm voice pierced through the menacing thoughts, drawing my attention back to reality. My eyes snapped open—when had I closed them?—and I found her looking at me with concern.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, Captain?"

She hesitated for a brief moment, perhaps second-guessing her decision to allow me back on duty. Perhaps she doubted my right to be there, just like everyone else in the room did. I felt the disapproval pelting me from every direction, like stones slung at a criminal to bring a slow and painful death.

"I need you to get into contact your Srivani friends in the Commonwealth," Janeway said. "See if they might be willing to share the specs of their bio-cloaking devices in exchange for whatever intelligence we can gather from the sphere. I'm sure that will come in handy as they prepare for Borg incursion into their space."

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, Captain."

"I'd like to see the data on that sphere," Chakotay said. "We might be able to recreate parts of it on the holodeck, run a few tactical simulations."

"It's all yours," Janeway responded. "The sphere is three days away by maximum warp. Tom, set a course. Chakotay, work with Captain Ransom and his crew. I want a preliminary outline for our heist by tomorrow morning."

Both men acknowledged her orders, and she paced to the head of the table to address us all. "We've proven ourselves against the Borg once before—twice before—but we are always the ones under attack. I think it's time to go on the offensive. Dismissed."

* * *

After making a hasty departure from the briefing room, I made straight for the head behind the bridge. Peeling open my uniform jacket and stripping off my shirt, I unceremoniously dumped them on the floor beside the sink and examined my arms—bared to the shoulder straps of my grey undershirt—in the mirror.

Clean.

I swore under my breath and stared hard into my own eyes. "This is not real. I am not covered in dirt. I am not losing my mind. This is just a manifestation of the guilt I feel for what happened, and for trying to move on with my life. I will get over it in time. Right now, I have work to do. I can do my job. I am fine. I will do my fucking job."

 _'You need to tell the captain, and ask to be relieved of duty. And you need to go to sickbay.'_

"No," I said out loud, even though I knew I was only talking to myself. My fingers curled around the rim of the basin. "I. Can. Do. This. I can. I am just—"

I jumped at the _swish_ of the doors, and turned my head to see Marla Gilmore enter the room.

Realizing that she had caught me at a bad time, she paused mid-stride. "I—I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll come back later."

"Nonsense," I countered, releasing my grip on the sink and straightening my stance. I pivoted on one thick, booted heel to face her directly. "You haven't interrupted anything. I was feeling a little… restricted in my uniform. But I'm fine. Carry on."

Her look turned from embarrassment to sympathy. "I can understand that. I'm glad you're back, though. The bridge hasn't been the same without you." Still not entirely comfortable with informality while on duty, she quickly added, "Sir."

I smiled, and felt myself relax just a little. "Thank you, Marla. I appreciate that. And, it's good to be back." With that, I returned to my discarded clothing on the floor.

I had work to do.


	23. Is There Somewhere

**Is There Somewhere**  
 _CW: Psychotic episodes  
Edited for sexual content; M-rated version posted at ArchiveOfOurOwn dot org_

* * *

It had long been a custom with Annika to do our counseling sessions on the holodeck, running a program in which we could walk and talk. Even after she grew comfortable with sitting, we had kept our arrangement simply because we enjoyed it.

Aware that I was still technically in recovery from heart surgery, Annika suggested that we hold our session in my office instead. I, however, was antsy to be active again after so long confined to a bed. I chose an easy, smoothly-paved path set within a simulation of the neighborhood park near my father's home on Earth.

"How have things been going for you since the last time we spoke?" I asked, following my standard session opening technique.

Annika wasted no time getting to the issue. "Do you recall the El-Aurian woman that I have previously informed you of?"

I nodded. "Loran, right?"

"Correct."

She remained silent for a long while, perhaps struggling for a way to explain whatever was on her mind. I decided to prompt her. "Were you close with Loran before Kes disconnected you from the Collective?"

"Yes," she replied. I could hear a slight tremor in her voice in spite of the steel she forced into it. "She has been able to tell me a great deal about myself. She knows about my parents, when I was born, what my quarters looked like on the _USS Raven_. She knows that my favorite color was red. She recalled to me that, as a child, I used to play with my father's model of a Borg cube, even though he had repeatedly asked me not to do so. I was… obstinate, apparently."

I chuckled. "Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"She was also aware of quite a few more… intimate details about me."

"Intimate, how?"

"It seems that she and I were… more than just friends."

"Annika," I said, looking over at her, "were you lovers?"

A muscle in her cheek tensed, and her bottom lip trembled. She pursed her lips and forced her face back into neutrality. "Yes."

"And now?"

"We resumed our relationship for a time, but we are no longer romantically involved."

"May I ask why?"

Annika stopped walking and turned to look at me directly. "Loran recently informed me that the drone whose body had once been hers was deactivated almost a century ago. It is pointless to continue a relationship with an individual I will never be able to meet in reality."

I blinked as I tried to process what Annika had just told me. "How can she exist in Unimatrix Zero if she was deactivated?"

"Loran was not simply another drone. She was a primary administrative drone. Or, as you might refer to her, a queen."

"A queen? In Unimatrix Zero?"

"Yes. Her task was to maintain order in Unimatrix Zero. Drones selected for genetic resequencing are connected to the network by way of a specific genetic modification. It was intended to prepare these drones for administrative tasks, which requires a unique mastery over the voice of the hive mind. Loran had the ability to reduce the flow of input from the Collective into the minds of her drones, until they could learn to bring order to the voices on their own."

"So it was designed to be a sort of training program for administrative drones," I reflected.

"Correct. Eventually, Loran began to value individuality over unity, and modified Unimatrix Zero accordingly. The Collective considered this to be a malfunction, and they deactivated her. The intention was to also shut down her unimatrix. However, she was able to remodulate the network so that it embedded itself into the primary unicomplex of the Collective, and safeguarded the individuals who were connected to it. She transferred her consciousness into the network prior to her deactivation. It is the only place where she exists."

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, but I did my best to otherwise absorb the information with professional calm. "I'm sorry, Annika."

"Your apology is irrelevant," she snapped, her voice uncharacteristically full of emotion. Turning away from me, Annika resumed her stride.

I matched her pace.

"She withheld important information from me, and encouraged me to embrace feelings that she knew could not find fulfillment outside of her virtual construct. She activated romantic and sexual desires in me that were unfamiliar, encouraged me to explore them with her there, and allowed me to erroneously believe that these desires could one day be consummated in reality."

"Honesty is important in healthy relationships," I said. "I think you did the right thing."

Annika swallowed hard, her eyes flicking about the park and never settling in one place. "After that, I found myself unable to disengage from these… desires."

"How long?"

"I learned of her true nature from the entity Susperia. That was when I severed our romantic relationship."

"Have you tried finding another outlet for these desires? Journaling? Self-stimulation? Holoerotica?"

"Dating. Dr. Schmullis suggested I try it."

 _'Of course he did,'_ I thought. But I simply said, "Oh? Another of his social skill holoprograms?"

"Correct."

"How did it go?"

"I tore a ligament in Lieutenant Chapman's shoulder."

I stifled a laugh and glanced over at her.

"Dancing," she explained.

"Perhaps you should take lessons," I suggested.

"Dr. Schmullis offered as much, but I have made other arrangements with a more stimulating partner." She paused to look over at me, meeting my eyes and watching carefully. "Lieutenant Megan Delaney."

I allowed my eyebrows to shift upward, but kept most of my surprise inside. Jenny was the player out of the Delaney twins; she reminded me of myself and Tom during our academy days. I had definitely caught her flirting with Annika more than once, and I would have expected her to be the one with whom Annika began a relationship.

Megan, on the other hand, was largely disinterested in dating. She went out with Tom twice in the first year of our journey on Voyager, but only because he was irritatingly persistent and because Jenny had wanted to use it as an 'in' with Harry. For a while after that, Megan had a quasi-romantic relationship with Crewman Mortimer Harren; they parted amicably as their intellectual pursuits diverged, although rumor had it that they continued relying on one another to scratch the occasional sexual itch.

So when Annika told me that she had an 'arrangement' with Megan, I was admittedly surprised. I remained calm, however, and gently probed. "Is that going well for you?"

She nodded and returned her gaze to the scenery in front of us. "Yes, the relationship is satisfactory."

"Good," I replied with a smile. "I'm glad to hear it." I paused to wet my lips before carefully asking, "Is any of this going to affect our mission on the Borg sphere?"

"I do not believe it will," Annika answered confidently.

"You don't think Loran has any ulterior motives? Or that she might be heartbroken, or jealous?"

"She is not real."

"She may not exist in the physical world anymore, Annika, but that does not mean that she isn't real."

"She cannot pose a threat to us. Her abilities are severely limited."

I fixed her with a firm gaze. "Are you saying that because you want it to be true, or because you know for certain that it is?"

Annika pursed her lips and stared straight ahead. "We will prevail."

With less than three-days distance between our position and the sphere we would soon be robbing, I could only hope that she was right.

* * *

Upon returning to my office, I had a message waiting from my Srivani contact. They were willing to share the specs of their bio-cloaking technology with us, but insisted upon some very specific modifications to our tricorders. It was nothing unreasonable, however, and I had no doubt that Captain Janeway would agree. After entering notes from my session with Annika, I put together a quick report for the captain and then departed to tell her the good news myself.

For a very brief time, I forgot about the reality that faced me in the corridors of Voyager. Every time I stepped foot in a public space anymore, I was assaulted by judgmental glares. As always, this commute was no different.

"Should she even be on duty?" I heard crewmen whisper to each other as I passed them by.

"She doesn't look okay."

"I hear she fucked Paris."

"I don't think Chief Torres will ever forgive either one of them."

"She broke Harry's heart. I can't believe he's still with her."

"She doesn't deserve him."

I was so anxious by the time I approached the turbolift that I didn't even register the man standing in front of it until I slammed into him from behind. Swearing and stumbling backwards, I had not yet formulated my apology when two hands reached out to steady my balance. Through my tilted and disoriented gaze, I realized that I had just walked right into Tom.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Whoa there, Talia," he said calmly, his fingers gripping my arms. "Slow down. Are you okay?"

"Fine," I insisted reflexively. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I just—"

 _'Wait a minute.'_ My mind screeched to a halt, and my speech with it.

"Talia?" Concern infused his voice—a voice that did not belong to Tom.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. When I opened them again, I realized that it was Chakotay standing in front of me.

 _'I could have sworn—'_

But no. It was definitely Chakotay. I was stressed and disoriented, and I had just been thinking about Tom. I must have seen the red uniform and jumped to a conclusion too soon.

Breathing deep and forcing a smile onto my face, I joked, "Good thing you were here, or I'd have hit the wall!"

Chakotay examined me with a scrutinizing look before turning back to the turbolift, which had arrived at some point during our interaction. I followed him onto the lift, and he glanced over to let me know that he was waiting for me to give the first order.

"Bridge," I called out, and the lift whirred with movement. In my periphery, I could see Chakotay still staring at me; I shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. "How are the tactical simulations coming?" I asked, hoping to break up the tension.

"They're coming," he said simply. After a pause, he ordered the turbolift to a halt. I shot him an irritated look, which he returned with ease. "What's wrong, Talia?"

I shook my head and forced a laugh. "Nothing! I've actually had a very productive day, and I'm about to give the captain some good news about the mission."

He crossed his arms. "That's not what I mean. When you ran into me, you looked like you were being hunted by a pack of Toskanar dogs."

I swallowed hard. No reply came to mind.

"You might as well come out with it. We're not going anywhere."

Rebellious against every attempt to retain some self-control, my eyes filled with tears. Still, I shook my head. I could not give him a straight answer. "I can do this," I insisted, quickly wiping the moisture from my face.

Had I said that for him, or for me?

I turned to face him straight-on. "Please don't take this away from me, Tay. It's all I have, and I'm so tired of feeling useless."

Confusion was written all over his features. "Take what away, Talia?"

"My work."

"Why would you think—"

I laughed. "Are you kidding me right now? Haven't you seen the way people look at me? Heard how they talk about me? They don't think I should be here. Even Harry—" I stopped myself before I shared something too private, and took a deep breath. "I'm not useless. I can do things. I need to. Please, don't take this away."

Before I knew what had happened, Chakotay wrapped me up in a tight embrace. "I'm not taking anything away, Talia. I know better than anyone that you can take one hell of a beating and still do your job. I'm not worried about that; but I _am_ worried about _you_."

I curled my fingers into the cloth of his jacket and heaved a sigh of relief. He knew what I was talking about. He understood. I had an ally.

Perhaps that was why I made an admission to him right there that I hadn't even been consciously aware of within myself until that very moment.

"I'm worried about me, too."

* * *

Harry was livid.

I sat sideways on the couch in our quarters, elbow propped on the back and my chin resting in hand, and I quietly watched the warped starlight streak past the viewport behind me. Meanwhile, my husband emotively gave vent to his anger over what the captain and I had done earlier that morning.

He thought it was too soon for me to be back on duty; I was too tired to argue.

"Are you even listening to me?" Harry demanded.

"I'm listening," I murmured.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

"Why bother?"

"You're not going to argue? Defend yourself?"

I shook my head, but did not look at him.

Harry sighed heavily. "Now I know that something's wrong."

A snort of air forced its way through my nostrils. "I changed, Harry. What happened there… it changed me."

"You still can't make yourself say it, can you? How can you possibly think that you're well when you can't even acknowledge that we lost our son?"

I winced.

"See? Point proven."

"Well, what are you still doing here, then?" I snapped, normal speech suddenly returning to me. "Go make your report to the captain about how I'm unfit for duty because I don't want to talk about the most horrible thing to ever happen to me."

"Even if you were being serious, we both know whose side of the issue she would take."

I shrugged. "Then send a message to Starfleet Command. Maybe you can get the captain and me both declared unfit for duty."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Talia. That's not what I mean, and you know it. I just—I don't think you're ready."

"Don't patronize me as if you know better than I do what I can and cannot handle. I'm not a child."

"And I'm not stupid! I know you pretty damn well, Talia. I think I can tell when something isn't right."

"Like I said. I changed. And you weren't there."

When Harry didn't respond for a long time, I finally turned my head to look at him. Even through the low lighting in the room, I could see the anguish on his face—skin drained of color, eyes wide and wet with tears, and mouth gaping open in shock. I probably should have felt horrible for the sharp words I had just thrown at him like a knife.

But I felt nothing at all.

I wondered to myself whether he was going to ask any of the questions that were probably streaking through his mind at that moment. He didn't speak, though, so I lifted my eyebrows at him. "Just say it, Harry."

A huff of air forced its way from his lungs, and he shook his head. Without a word, he turned away and disappeared into our bedroom.

I turned my face again towards the silent stars.

* * *

The next day, I got clearance to participate in tactical simulations on the holodeck. I was confident that having a good mission to put my mind and body to work on would do me more good than anything else had thus far. I was unbearably antsy, and being stuck inside my own head was a death trap. I needed to be a purely physical creature—to run on nothing but instinct—for a while.

I also needed to face and conquer the irrational fear I kept having of being assimilated by the modified nanoprobes that repaired and maintained my heart. I had tried to wait out the anxiety, but it kept on coming back—bringing with it sensations so strong that I could swear it felt real in the moment.

 _'Ah'no talin'serakem.'_

 _I am the strong-hearted_. I repeated it over and over again to myself as I made my way to the holodeck. Months of injury and recovery had left me weaker than ever before, so Chakotay asked me to report early to complete some pre-simulation conditioning exercises. I was determined to prove that I was not broken the way everyone seemed to think.

Perhaps if I successfully completed a mission as crazy as this one, everything could finally go back to normal again.

My first run in more than seven months was frustratingly difficult to complete—and not just because I was so out of shape. As my breathing became faster and my chest muscles tighter, I could taste the fear of an oncoming panic attack. I knew that if it overtook me there, I would be pulled from the mission on the spot. If it was bad enough to warrant a trip to sickbay, Schmullis would not hesitate to pull me from duty completely.

No, that simply would not do. I had to change my focus.

 _'Ah'no kost'valor sereen  
Ah'no navot ri'vayzan  
Ah'no talin'serakem  
Per ah'va maypah'_

 _I am the blood of the warrior  
I am a mountain, immovable  
I am the strong-hearted  
And I will stand this ground_

I repeated the entire mantra to myself again and again, allowing it to fill me up until it was everything. I breathed it in and blew it out. I pounded the running track with it on each step. It burned like acid in my muscles, and it ached like joints between my bones. It was the power within me, the pain that made me stronger, and the reason for every animal impulse. It became my basest instinct, swallowing my consciousness completely until Chakotay told me to stop.

By the time I completed the conditioning circuit, all of the worry that had lined Chakotay's face in the turbolift was replaced with a look of pride. I had done it. I had proven myself to him, and confirmed my rightful place on the mission.

Before long, other crew began to arrive for the tactical drills. I would prove myself to them, too. I would prove myself to everyone that mattered.

Except Tom didn't come.

I forced myself not to think of anything but my mantra and the mission all through tactical drills, and I was quite successful at it. Out of everyone, only Tuvok had better focus than I did; the rest were distracted with watching for my inevitable failure.

They never got what they were looking for.

Harry was the most distracted at first; once he was satisfied that I was not going to drop dead from over-exertion, he eventually found his focus. He tried to catch me afterwards, but I slipped away from everyone without a word to any of them.

There was only one person I wanted to talk to, and he was avoiding me like a ghost.

' _Passed conditioning and drills with flying colors,_ ' I messaged to Tom after I left the holodeck. ' _Missed you. Harry's working gamma shift again. Could really use some company tonight.'_

As usual, he did not reply.

* * *

I had expected to spend the night alone. I had not expected Tom to come at all. I certainly had not expected him to walk into my quarters unannounced, as if he belonged there.

"I traded shifts so I could have the night off," he said. "I had to talk to you. I had to tell you that I—"

I never let him finish. Words were insufficient, and I was still a creature running on instinct. My instincts told me one thing and one thing only—I needed him immediately.

The kiss was desperate and bruising. I pressed my tongue against his lips and he opened immediately to me, meeting my fervent hunger with his own in equal measure. He moaned, low and deep, as I slid the tip of my tongue along the roof of his mouth.

Then, he thrust his own tongue into my mouth and devoured me. Fingers worked at closures of uniforms as we fed on each other's moans, desperate to feel naked touch. We broke apart just enough to peel undershirts away from flushed skin, which we immediately began to grasp and lick and bite at like flames lapping at the side of a building.

I dragged him backwards until I connected with the edge of the dining table.

"Talia," he groaned against my shoulder. His fingers scored the skin of my back.

"That's right," I purred into his ear.

Painting languid kisses along my neck, he whispered, "I love you so much, _ja'Talia_."

No. That was _not_ what I needed.

Threading my fingers through his hair, I fisted a clump of it and pulled his head to the side so that his neck was exposed to me. Then, I scraped my teeth down the slope that lead from the underside of his jaw to the meat of his shoulder, and I bit down hard.

He yelped in pain, but followed it with a strangled cry of pleasure at the deft touch of my hand.

Bringing my mouth back to his ear, I told him in no uncertain terms what I needed that night. I needed to feel alive.

The way his hands grazed gently over my body, I was afraid that maybe he hadn't understood me after all. But then he flipped the switch, and our pace jumped to warp. He only hesitated once—when his name crossed my lips on a hiss of breath—before giving me exactly what I asked of him.

* * *

I awoke a while later at the feel of Harry crawling into bed beside me.

I did not move from where I lay—on my side, facing away from him. It took focus to keep my breathing deep and steady. Gamma shift was tiring, though, and I knew that he would fall asleep quickly.

I flinched when his hand settled on my upper arm.

"Did I wake you?" he whispered softly.

"No," I lied.

He let out a breath and allowed his body to relax. His thumb caressed the slope of my shoulder. "I was going to say something earlier, but—well—anyway. I'm sorry for the other night. I, uh… you were right. I can't tell you not to work. It's your life."

"Thank you."

"I wish I had been there, on that planet." His voice cracked like glass, cutting painfully into my chest.

"Me, too."

"I'm sorry that I wasn't."

"You saved us," I reminded him.

It was the truth. Harry had been the one to discover the temporal differential after Voyager launched a probe into the sinkhole. He was the one who calculated it, and he designed the system modifications necessary to send the communication and transport signals by using the probe as a relay.

"I had help,"he demurred.

"It was still you."

"I wish I had thought of it sooner."

I sighed. "Harry. By the time Voyager got to the site of the anomaly…" I swallowed the rest of the words, which had clumped in my throat and threatened to choke me. The flesh of my arms began to crawl, and I shivered.

His arms immediately wrapped around me, pulling my bare skin to lay against his and soothing the goosebumps all over my body. His breath was warm on my neck. "I know."

 _'I am Lieutenant Commander Eelo Talia of the Federation Starship Voyager,'_ I silently reminded myself. _'I am not a drone. I am not dead on that planet. I am alive. I am human. I will not yield to this fear. I know what I am.'_

I threaded my fingers between his.

His nose traced up the nape of my neck, and he pressed a soft kiss at the top. _"Aka akaya'ah, ja'Talia."_ I love you, my Talia.

" _Per aka akaya'ah, ja'Harry."_ And I love you, my Harry.

Part of me wanted to turn to him—to offer him my need. My body was still humming the tune of my earlier liaison with Tom. I could tell Harry not to talk, if I had to; I could pretend that it was Tom making love to me instead. One touch would be all that was necessary to signal my intent, and Harry knew better than anyone how to satisfy me.

But I couldn't bring myself to move. 'Honesty is important in healthy relationships,' I had told Annika a day before. What a hypocrite I was.

Had I really changed that much? Had I fallen out of love with Harry so easily, after all our promises of forever?

No, I did still love him. Of course I did. He was a part of me. And I had sworn to myself that I would return to our marriage once I was well enough to.

I just couldn't shake the feeling that he deserved someone better than me.


	24. Flicker

**Flicker**

* * *

I got the com in the middle of the night.

Elentia barely contained her emotions throughout our conversation. Considering the news she had called to give me, I couldn't really blame her. It was terrifying, tragic, and unexpected.

For the first time in known history, the Borg Collective sent a scout ship through the blue nebula. Srivani cloaks had kept their people and technology safe from detection. Not a single one was assimilated, for they held all-stop while Hirogen hunting parties fell one by one.

From there, the cube easily broke through B'omar defenses. It ripped planetary outposts from the ground like weeds — exactly the same as the Borg had done to the outpost at Jouret IV prior to the Battle of Wolf 359.

The cube did not venture any deeper into B'omar space, instead turning its sights onward. It wasn't the B'omar that the Borg had sent their scout to investigate, who were of little consequence to them. No, the Borg wanted to possess the secrets of Annorax's terrible weapon.

They wanted Kyana Prime.

Slow-moving civilian ships were easy targets — particularly near worlds that had suffered the most from Annorax's oppressive and brutal rule. Planets we had helped to liberate were laid waste by a single Borg cube.

The scout made it to the outskirts of the Zahl system before finally being destroyed by Her Majesty's Royal Fleet. Though not even a year old, the Krenim Commonwealth held against her first Borg attack.

Betiel — Elentia's father, and our closest ally in the war — was killed during the battle.

After closing the com channel, my body trembled with rage. We had always known that it was a matter of time before the Borg realized that the timeship's activities had ceased, and they moved in to investigate. Still, it seemed too soon. Most planets had not yet recovered from the war, let alone begun to build up defenses against the Borg.

If our mission to liberate Unimatrix Zero were to fail, the entire Krenim sector would likely fall to the Borg. And with such sophisticated knowledge of temporal mechanics in the hands of the Collective, no species bound to spacetime would stand a chance against them.

"The moment arrives," a woman's voice said.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I looked frantically around the room for the source of her voice.

No one was there; I was alone.

"I'm not so sure about that," replied a familiar male voice. "She has shown no indication that she is ready to expand her mind."

It was Q.

"Then we must force her mind to open," argued the woman, who I now recognized as Susperia.

"You would break her before you got anything useful out of her. No, we must delay the issue until she is ready."

Another man, whose voice I did not know, snarled back, "There is no time for that!"

"So says the human," Q sneered. "I'll never understand why the Prophets sent you. You think in such small terms. Time is of no consequence to us."

"Listen to them bicker, _ja'ital_ ," _Marnah_ murmured into my ear.

My eyes were closed. When had I closed my eyes? I reached out for _Marnah_ , but no one was there.

"The Continuum is a realm of narcissism and lies," Susperia accused. "You have forgotten the humility from whence you came."

"We have not forgotten," Q rebutted. "We know full well what we were, but we also know who we are. We don't need to go looking to mortals for our salvation."

"No," the unfamiliar male voice snapped, "you just get your kicks from fucking famous mortals, picking fights that wipe out entire systems, and tossing starships in front of Borg cubes that shouldn't even be there in the first place!"

"Ooh, airing my dirty laundry. Well, I can play this game, too, _mon capitan_. Shall I make a list of all your sins?"

"Go right ahead. Nothing can compare to the evil that your careless carousing has unleashed upon the galaxy. You have damned us all!"

"One galaxy," Q argued. "One among billions. It is of little consequence to the rest of the cosmos. Let the Borg have it; perhaps it will teach you to think a little bigger."

"How _dare_ you? Who the hell are you to make that decision for an entire galaxy of innocent people?"

"The mere fact that you have to ask that question proves that you have no right to participate in this conversation," Q said. "You are nothing but an ant among gods, who is on a quest for revenge. Go back to your wormhole and send us a _real_ Prophet to speak with. Otherwise, the Continuum refuses to support this ridiculous little project."

 _Marnah_ chuckled lightly. "Children," she sneered. "That is all they are. Children pretending to be gods."

"Even the Prophets?" I asked, unsure about who was the source of this vision.

 _Marnah_ hummed. "Even the Prophets."

Blasphemy! Even an Eelo wouldn't say that. "Why are you here?" I asked. "Why are you showing me this?"

"You need to understand what they are. These self-proclaimed gods are not your allies. They are selfish, seeking to steal your glory and claim it as their own. I made you for a purpose, _ja'ital_. You must not fail."

"What are you talking about? What is my purpose?"

"You are distracted by selfish and impossible desires. Your losses. Your obsession. Your fear. You waste all of your energy fighting shadows, while the true enemy watches for an opportunity to strike."

"What enemy?"

"The only enemy, _cheli_ — the enemy you were brought here to fight, whose corruption now flows through your veins like a disease. You must harden yourself, just as I taught you. You are the strong-hearted — a mountain, immovable. What power has the _Dal'Rok_ to shake a mountain?"

"Only that which I give to it," I answered.

"Complete the mission, before the enemy takes you. And do not speak of these visions to anyone until the enemy has been eliminated."

Sensing that the vision was about to end, I blurted, "What does this have to do with Section 31?"

"Remember who you are," she whispered.

When I opened my eyes, there was nothing but the computer console before me, the chair beneath me, and the sound of Harry's deep breathing wafting in from the next room.

* * *

Unable to go back to sleep, and with hours yet to go before my shift, I made my way to the airponics bay to seek out some peace of mind. My fingers grazed the delicate tips of flower petals as I stepped slowly between two rows of plants.

Although most of the bay was utilized for edibles, this small section existed merely for pleasure. It was here that Tuvok and Lon cultivated and cared for their living works of art. Species that existed nowhere else in the galaxy lived here, created for no other reason than beauty, bursting with every color in the visible spectrum. This station was, without a doubt, one of my very favorite of all the science stations under my command.

But on this particular morning, I felt absolutely nothing.

The bright colors and fresh smells, the rare experience of being surrounded by flora in the depths of space, the warmth of lights designed to imitate the sun — none of it could reach me. I was a frozen, barren wasteland. It was as if I had woken up from a coma and forgotten everything about myself. If I reached back, I could almost recognize the haunting melody of some former happiness that might have once been mine.

Almost... until it inevitably slipped through my fingers.

"Harden yourself," _Marnah_ hissed in my ear. "You have allowed them to corrupt you. Return to the path of the Prophets."

"But I thought you said —" I looked towards her, but no one was there.

 _Where_ , I wondered to myself, _is the line between vision and hallucination_?

* * *

Beyond the usual attendees of _Voyager's_ daily briefing, we were again joined by Crewman Annika Hansen and Operations Specialist Iliana Ghemor, as well as Captain Ransom of the _Equinox_. This time, I made a concerted effort to ignore the judgmental glares and whispers of my comrades.

I did not look at Tom — not even once.

 _Ah'no talin'serakem_ , I reminded myself.

"Commander," Captain Janeway said, addressing her first officer, "how are the mission drills coming?"

"The teams are working well together," Chakotay said. "All have made improvements on their time and efficiency."

"And the bio-cloaking devices?"

"Work like a charm, Captain," he answered smoothly.

"I'm sensing a 'but,'"Janeway said as she inclined forward and tilted her head slightly to one side.

Annika took the opportunity to share her concern. "The shuttle will not be a sufficient enough ploy to attract the attention of the sphere, Captain."

"Oh? What makes you say that?" Janeway asked.

"Given the extensive efforts already being put into repairs, it would be considered an inefficient use of resources to subdue and capture a type-nine shuttlecraft."

"We could send the _Tereshkova,_ " Harry offered. "It's larger, has more technology, and is stocked with more torpedoes than the _Cochrane_."

"That would increase the chances of provoking the sphere into action," Annika replied, "but not by enough. I believe they would still ignore it."

"What about _Equinox_?" Iliana suggested.

"Out of the question," Ransom snapped.

"I don't mean the whole ship, Captain," Iliana soothed. "But we could outfit the shuttle with some of its non-Federation technology. Make it a more tempting target."

"That could create a whole new set of problems," Harry pointed out. "What technology are we willing to sacrifice to the Collective? How would its removal affect the systems it has been integrated with? How would losing that technology hurt us in the long run? How might assimilating it hurt the species who originally developed the technology, if the Borg decide to attack them?"

"Not to mention," B'Elanna added, "that we don't exactly have time on our side here."

"Why not just have the shuttle take a shot at them?" Tom asked.

"The shuttle would be perceived as a threat, and destroyed," Annika answered brusquely.

"Any other suggestions?" Janeway asked.

"What if," I blurted, "rather than putting new technology on the shuttle, we put one of the teams on board instead?"

Nearly every face around the table registered some degree of shock at my suggestion.

Iliana grinned approvingly.

Annika seemed amenable to the idea, arching her eyebrow and tilting her head as she considered its merits. "It could work. There are many variables."

"Such as?" Tuvok prodded.

"The number of active drones on board the sphere, their capabilities, and the resources at their immediate disposal. The perceived value of the individuals on board the shuttle. The amount of resistance that the Borg expect those individuals to put up, weighted against the benefits to be gained from assimilation."

"Then we should put our most valuable people on board," Iliana said. "Other than our esteemed captains, of course."

"And who might that be?" Chakotay asked.

When Iliana simply shrugged, I answered him instead. "To be honest, I think that just having Annika on that shuttle would be enough to get them interested."

"I concur," Tuvok said. "I see no benefit to reorganizing the current away teams."

"I'm touched that you want to keep me around," Iliana teased.

Tuvok fixed his teammate with a reproving glare, which elicited a coy smile from her in response.

"Annika?" Janeway asked. "Any thoughts?"

"I believe that Commanders Eelo and Tuvok are correct in their assessment of the situation. My presence aboard the shuttle will likely be sufficient to provoke the Borg to act."

"Will it be possible to transport from the shuttle onto the sphere once it has been captured?" Harry asked.

"While there are security measures in place to prevent such actions," Annika replied, "they do not account for the phase-shifting technology within the bio-cloaking devices. There will not be a problem."

"Then it's settled," Janeway said. "Commander Eelo and her team will take the shuttle; the other two teams will transport to the sphere from _Equinox_. After the Borg attack on Krenim space last night, I don't have to stress to you how important is our success in this mission... or what could be at stake if we fail." The captain paused for a moment to let the weight of her words sink in before she ended the meeting with a firm, "Dismissed."

* * *

I paused at the top of my next-to-last rep in the squat cage, a barbell weighted with 40 added kilos on my back. I was losing my breath, and I could feel panic buzzing like background noise in my brain. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and forced back the fear.

"Just one more," Harry encouraged from behind. "You've got this."

 _I do have this_ , I agreed silently. Opening my eyes as I inhaled nice and slow, I sat back over my heels, dropping my hips low until they were level with my knees. The moment my squat found full depth, I exhaled sharply and reversed the motion, driving my hips up over my heels until, with a cry of strain, I reached the top again.

Harry grabbed the bar, helping me lift it over the hooks of the rack behind me. Once it was safely in place, I leaned against the structure of the cage, exhausted, and let myself slide to the floor.

"Talia, are you okay?" Harry asked, worry rising in his voice.

I nodded and offered him a dismissive wave of my hand, still trying to catch my breath. I knew that I had pushed myself rather hard, but I wanted to be as ready as possible for the mission. It was nothing a little pulse therapy couldn't handle.

Still, I was frustrated with myself. Sixty kilos was nothing compared to what I used to lift, and it would take time to get strong again.

Time that I did not have.

Harry rounded the cage to check on me, squatting to the floor in front of me and reaching a tentative hand out to touch my face.

"You are weak," _Marnah_ criticized.

I jerked my head away from Harry's hand. "I'm fine," I snapped.

"So weak," _Marnah_ taunted.

"Talk to me, _ja'Talia_ ," Harry begged, his voice trembling with desperation. "Please."

Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked the moisture back. I refused to break in front of him; I would not break for anyone.

"I should be able to lift twice that," I lamented. My voice seemed so small to my own ears. Not hard enough. Not strong.

"Weak," _Marnah_ confirmed.

Harry's hand moved away from my face to grasp my shoulder. "Give it time, love," he assured me, "you will."

I nodded firmly and took a steadying breath.

With one hand, Harry gently caressed my cheek. "Let's go home," he said. "I need to shower and get ready for my shift anyway."

"Your shift?" I asked as Harry pulled me to my feet. "You never work Thursdays."

"Talia," he said slowly, "I told you. I traded shifts so that I could be with you last night. How can you not remember?"

"You..." My mind scrambled to resolve the sudden dissonance.

' _I traded shifts so I could have the night off,_ ' Tom had told me the previous evening when he barged, unsummoned, into my quarters. ' _I had to talk to you_.'

I hadn't let him do much talking. All he managed to say before I ordered his silence was, ' _I love you so much_ , ja'Talia.'

But Tom never called me that. Only members of the same Bajoran house ever used that endearment for one another, and Tom was not an Eelo.

"Talia?" Harry prodded nervously.

"See?" _Marnah_ hissed. "I told you. You are blinded by obsession. The nanoprobes have corrupted your mind, to distract you from the mission. Who are you?"

Blinking, I shook my head and forced a laugh. "You know what? I was so caught up in the moment last night, I don't think I even heard you say which day you traded for."

Harry's expression was suspicious — and perhaps a little sad — but he looked down at the floor and accepted my explanation with a nod. "Right," he said as he huffed a weak laugh. "It happens."

Not another word or touch was exchanged between us all the way back to our quarters.


	25. Devil May Cry

**Devil May Cry**

* * *

The next morning, Mike, Annika, and I packed our gear onto the smallest of _Voyager's_ two remaining shuttles and began our day-long trip to the damaged Borg sphere. Considering the need to remain undetected, _Equinox_ engaged her cloak and followed us there, acting as our center of operations rather than _Voyager_. Still, it was _Voyager's_ mission; our crew had experience and knowledge that Ransom's crew did not.

It was an uncomfortable trip for the three of us, crammed together inside of _Cochrane's_ tiny cockpit with only the cargo hold's limited floor space on which to sleep. Mike and I had both endured worse as cadets at the academy — instructors seemed to compete with one another for how many cadets they could cram onto one shuttle — but Annika was clearly uneasy.

I was nervous for an entirely different reason.

It wasn't hard for most people to grasp that hearing voices could cause a great deal of anxiety. Yet, it was also troubling to have _Marnah's_ voice suddenly and inexplicably stop. Part of me feared that she was not an extra-dimensional vision given to me by the Prophets, but a hallucination created by my own mind. I found it easy enough to reason away that fear, but it did not negate the possibility.

I would need to see Dr. Schmullis after I got back to _Voyager_. I knew it was the right thing to do, but just the thought of telling him set me even more on edge.

 _Focus_ , I reminded myself as I took a deep breath. _Stay focused on the mission_.

"Are you anxious, Commander?" Annika asked.

Mike was asleep in the aft cargo hold. Sensors were quiet, the course was easy, and the cockpit was, mostly, still. I huffed a laugh and glanced towards my co-pilot. "Is it that obvious?"

She turned her face towards mine. "Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "If you are trying to be subtle, I recommend that you do not tap your thumb against the edge of your console."

"Or practice breathing exercises."

"Or that." Turning back to her station, Annika stared down towards the panel of operations controls but did not seem to be looking at them. She took a breath. "I, too, feel an increased degree of anxiety. It is my first time being on a Borg vessel since I was disconnected from the hive mind."

"I can only imagine how unnerving that must feel," I said. "For what it's worth, I think you're very brave to volunteer for this mission."

"It was necessary."

"Was it? We are resourceful. So are you. With your help, I'm sure we could have found another way if you hadn't felt ready to face this. But you have not once hesitated to keep moving forward, Annika. And I think that's brave."

Swallowing hard and tightening her jaw, Annika turned again to me and nodded once. "Thank you, Commander."

"You're welcome. You know, when we complete this mission and get back to _Voyager_ , we'll need to celebrate our accomplishment. I realize you're not big on recreation and enjoyment, but you'll be the guest of honor. This was, after all, your mission from the start."

Annika dropped her gaze to the floor, only partially concealing the smile pulling at her pink lips. "I have come to appreciate the value of experiences that induce pleasure and happiness," she admitted. Looking up, she added, "I believe it is an aspect of individuality that is worth preserving, protecting, and sharing with others."

As I returned her smile with one of my own, a spark of hope flared within me. Annika had come so very far since the day she agreed to become a part of our crew nearly two years prior. From the integration of the Maquis crew, to the reintegration of a Cardassian spy, to folding Annika Hansen into our ranks, and finally to joining forces with _Equinox_ and Captain Ransom's crew, there was a great deal of healing and redemption happening during this journey. There was room for more, of course — myself included.

But there was hope.

* * *

Upon reaching the Borg ship, we put on an act as if we had been surprised by its presence. Mike raised shields while I fired up the engines and prepared to flee. After a quick scan, the sphere locked us in a tractor beam.

When their hail came through, informing us that we would be assimilated, I took a breath and braced myself for the sensation of nanoprobes overwhelming my bloodstream. No such sensation came.

I ordered Mike to put up a fight, and we vainly attempted to break free from the tractor beam.

Then, as the mouth of the sphere opened wide to swallow us whole, we activated our biocloaking devices and transported as near to the central plexus as we could get.

A moment later, Chakotay's voice came through the com confirming transport for his and Tuvok's teams. I quickly answered with our confirmation of transport, and Captain Ransom confirmed his presence on the com line from _Equinox's_ bridge.

Then, we moved out.

One by one, each team confirmed that they were in position and ready to go. Equinox, too, reported that they were standing by. Soon, it was down to us; uploading the virus would be the first domino to fall in our carefully-planned chain of events. Mike and I looked at Annika, waiting for her to set it all into motion.

But that's not what happened.

Annika stood in front of the central plexus, right hand balled into a fist and aimed at the center of the console. For a moment, she simply stared at it, taking deep breaths and looking conflicted about what she was about to do.

When she shifted her bright blue eyes to mine, I could feel the weight of her regret like a tangible thing. "I'm sorry."

Faster than my mind could have hoped to process, she fired her phaser at Mike and plunged her tubules into my heart. Pain knifed through my body, spreading across my chest like lightning in the night sky.

Then, everything went black.

Only a brief moment had passed, it seemed, when I heard the sound of Mike's voice cutting through the murky waters of my consciousness and dragging me back to the surface. My hands were already moving to my chest, which was cold and bare, but Mike shoved them aside. They came away sticky with blood. I opened my mouth to speak and realized that I was fighting just to take a full breath.

"Talia," he said firmly as my eyes settled on his face. He looked eerie outlined in the dim green lighting of the sphere. "You have an open chest wound. I need you to exhale all the air you possibly can, and then hold your breath until I tell you to breathe again. Can you do that?"

I nodded, and did as he said. It felt like an agonizingly long wait while he covered the wound with a membrane he had miraculously produced from somewhere.

"Okay," he finally said, and I took a gasping breath.

I could feel the membrane suction into my chest, preventing air from slipping into the wound. When I breathed out, it ballooned slightly, allowing air to escape.

After a few breaths, I began to regain control. With a collapsed lung, it wasn't easy or comfortable, but at least I could manage. I could only assume that the nanoprobes had closed the wounds in my heart and saved me from an even worse injury.

I wrapped my fingers around Mike's arm. "Annika?"

"She low-stunned me when she attacked you," he said, shaking his head. "I recovered enough to keep you from hitting the floor, but she took off. Left her combadge behind."

"We need to know if the virus has been deployed," Iliana demanded on the com.

"Forget the virus," Harry snapped back. "We should blow the charges and get back to the ship."

"I agree," Ransom concluded.

"Wait!" I called out as I used Mike's solid body to drag myself to my feet. "I can find out the status of the virus."

"Jesus, woman," Mike swore at me from behind. "Take it easy."

"Commander?" Ransom growled.

"Make it quick, Talia," Chakotay said evenly.

Given his permission to proceed, I stumbled towards the interface beside the central console. "Tricorder," I ordered, snapping my fingers at Mike.

He huffed a laugh as he set it in my hand.

Flipping the device open, I established a link between it and the console. Then, I slipped into the sphere's network.

" _Un'Bentel_ ," I murmured under my breath.

"What is it?" Chakotay asked through the com.

"The virus has been deployed," I reported as I configured the tricorder to download as much of the database as it could hold. "But there's something else. Another virus, disrupting the neural link between the sphere and all of the drones on board."

Tuvok's voice cut into my report. "If I might interject, Commander? Many of the drones appear to be deactivating themselves."

"Deactivating themselves?" Ransom echoed back.

I snapped the tricorder shut and stowed it on my belt. "Then we need to get the hell out of here, right now, before the admin drones trigger the self-destruct."

"Blow the charges," Chakotay ordered.

A moment later, I heard the sound of an explosion elsewhere on the sphere. As I leaned on Mike for support, we quickly made our way out of the central plexus towards the extraction point.

We never made it there.

One moment, we were stumbling through the narrow corridors of the sphere, fighting against time and the blackness creeping in from the edges of my vision.

The very next moment, we materialized on _Equinox's_ bridge with the rest of the away team — all except for Annika.

Ransom's bridge crew gaped at us in shock.

"They were transported by the Borg ship, sir," the ops officer reported.

"Annika," I said.

"Hail the sphere," Chakotay demanded.

"And reveal our position?" Ransom countered.

"Clearly, they are already aware of it," Tuvok pointed out.

The captain held Chakotay's hardened gaze as he momentarily weighed his options. Finally, he nodded. "Hail the sphere."

After a beat his ops manager replied, "No response, sir."

"Captain," Harry interjected, "I can reconfigure the sensors to single out Crewman Hansen's biosigns, and then we can beam her back."

Ransom barely had time to open his mouth when the ops manager called out an urgent report.

"Captain, I'm detecting a massive energy buildup on the Borg sphere. Cascade reaction is imminent."

Ransom tore his eyes away from our team and turned to his first officer at the con. "Max, get us out of here, maximum warp."

"Wait!" I shouted as I wrenched myself out of Mike's supportive grasp and stumbled across the bridge towards the place where Ransom stood. "We need to retrieve Annika!"

"We don't have time."

"We can't leave one of our own behind!"

"She disobeyed orders and made an unprovoked attack on a superior officer," the captain snapped at me. "She is not one of us."

"That's not your decision to make!"

"Captain," Chakotay interjected sternly, "I have to agree with Talia. On _Voyager_ , mutiny doesn't warrant a death sentence."

"This isn't _Voyager_ ," Ransom snarled. Taking the command seat, he looked at Max and nodded. "You have your orders, Commander. Engage."

"Belay that order," Chakotay snapped. "Sorry, Captain, but Crewman Hansen is not yours to sacrifice. Harry, take ops. Do what you have to do to get Hansen back."

"Yes, sir."

To his credit, Commander Burke kept his hands folded in his lap. "Might I recommend that we decloak and raise our shields, sir?"

"Do it," Chakotay agreed.

Max nodded at the tactical officer, who entered the command into her console.

The bridge tilted around me, and my balance faltered. In an instant, Mike was behind me and holding me up once more. "They're going to get her back," he murmured reassuringly. "Let's get you to sickbay."

I shook my head. "Wait."

"Ma'am—"

"Cascade failure in thirty seconds," warned the lieutenant at tactical, pulling my attention away from Mike.

"I'll be making a note of this in my log," Ransom growled.

"Go right ahead, Captain," Chakotay replied. "Harry?"

At ops, Harry shook his head. "I'm having trouble isolating her biosigns, Commander."

 _Twenty seconds_.

"What's the problem?"

"She's interfaced with the ship. I'm attempting to compensate."

 _Ten seconds. Nine. Eight._

Harry frowned. "I don't understand."

 _Seven. Six._

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Chakotay pressed.

 _Five_.

"Her lifesigns," Harry panted.

 _Four_.

"I've lost them."

 _Three_.

Chakotay's eyes widened. "What?"

 _Two_.

"I can't find her."

 _One_.

The viewscreen flared with bright light from the explosion, drawing every eye towards it. Even as the shockwave slammed into _Equinox_ , causing the ship to lurch and quake, an eerie silence held every tongue in its firm grip.

When the shockwave passed and the light disappeared, I looked to my husband at ops.

Harry's pain-filled eyes found mine, and he shook his head.

Just before my mind collided with the ugly truth of what happened, I found myself retreating to a different moment in time...

 _"Tom," I said firmly as I extracted myself from my best friend's desperate grip. With both hands, I grasped his face so I could fix my gaze on him. "Talk to me, Tommy. Tell me what's happening inside that head of yours."_

 _"I don't know," he said, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "It's just... we're all so fragile, you know? Everything is. I try so hard. And for a moment, I have what I want — something amazing — but then it's gone. And now, we're down to the end of everything. It's just me, you, Tuvok, and Noss. That's it, because we're going to die here. And I could lose it all at any moment."_

 _I blinked, sending tears down both cheeks, and nodded._

 _Tom coiled his arms around my waist as he turned his face towards one of my palms and kissed it. "Years ago, I pushed you away because I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me for what I had done at Caldik Prime. I ran from the best thing in my life, because I was afraid. I'm not making the same mistake again. Talia, I love you."_

 _"Tom..." I whispered in shock._

 _"You don't have to say anything back, but I needed you to know."_

 _I slid my fingers into his sandy-blonde hair, wrapping my hands around the back of his head. "I love you, too, Tom."_

 _Releasing his breath with a huff, he smiled. "Yeah?"_

 _I smiled back at him. "Yeah. You're all I've got left to hold onto now, so don't you dare let me go."_

 _"I won't," he promised as he lowered his lips to mine._

 _It wasn't until late into the night, when Noss' cries roused us from drifting into a sated slumber, that we felt the cold air of separation come between us once again._


	26. The Price of Victory

**The Price of Victory**

 _CW: Psychotic break_

 _AUTHOR NOTE: I have posted two chapters today rather than the usual one, so make sure you read chapter 28 before you read this one! The final two chapters will be up soon._

* * *

They say that I never lost consciousness — that I simply stood there, braced in Mike's arms, staring wide-eyed at my husband. Harry called my name, but I didn't even blink. When Mike tried to guide me towards the turbolift, I would not move.

I was aware of nothing until I woke up to a fit of worried voices in _Equinox's_ sickbay.

At first, I had no memory of the mission at all. It wasn't until later, as I slept in the guest quarters on _Equinox_ , that the horror and tragedy returned to me in my dreams.

I woke up, weeping, after only a short three hours of restless sleep. Had Ransom yet contacted _Voyager_ and told them the news? Had Chakotay told our captain what I had done, and broken her weary heart?

I should have protected Annika. I was her team leader, and I failed her. The crew's criticism was right all along — I was not ready to be on a mission. My selfishness had cost Annika's life.

I could barely breathe through the weight of my sobs. Harry tried to console me, but I pulled away. His touch burned my skin like sandpaper.

Frailty defined me. I was exhausted from the constant barrage of nanoprobes trying to assimilate me. Thousands of drones had been on that sphere, and the Collective wanted payback.

They wanted me.

I knew it was irrational, but _Marnah_ insisted that if Harry touched me, the nanoprobes might slip into his body, too. I had to keep to myself, she said; no skin-to-skin contact. I was dangerous. I could destroy everyone, just like I had destroyed Annika.

I curled into a tight ball at the edge of the bed.

"Talia," Harry pleaded.

"Please just leave me alone," I whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said as he started to cry. "I'm sorry."

His words burned right through me, and I held onto the pain. I did not deserve anyone's sympathy. I deserved punishment.

"The responsibility is on you now," _Marnah_ said. "You are small, weak, and insignificant. You have foolishly traded away the queens, and now the path of the Prophets has become narrow. The odds are impossible."

 _Impossible is a word for the faithless_ , I insisted.

"Indeed. That is exactly what you have become, _cheli —_ faithless. That is why you failed."

* * *

Somehow, in the haze of my mind, I found myself wandering through the desert where the worst of my failures were born. I heard Tom's voice calling out to me, and soon he was at my side, guiding me back to Noss' ship. His love for me had been so pure, so unfailing. He gave himself away to pull me out of a dark pit. He cleaned me up, and tried to scrub every last sin from my skin.

The feel and smell of dirt clung to my fingertips, even after Tom had washed it away.

My hands reached for him, landing first on his chest before sliding up to his shoulders to pull him towards me, and then moving to grip both sides of his face. The dirt from my fingers smeared across his cheeks. "Tommy —"

"I won't lose you, too," Tom insisted as he grabbed my shoulders firmly with both hands. "I need you."

Then, we were kissing with desperate, hungry need. I could taste dirt in my mouth, now also in his. It covered us both.

From behind, I felt the loving caress of Harry's lips slide along the curve of my neck. I turned my face from Tom, towards my husband. When Harry's lips met mine, I realized that he, too, tasted of dirt.

Quite suddenly, I was kneeling over Annika's grave, alone. I sunk my fingers as far down into the dirt as possible, pressed my forehead to the ground, and wailed.

Wrong. It was wrong. It was all wrong. Nothing — not even a miraculous return to the Alpha Quadrant — could ever make it right again.

When I awoke halfway through the night, I thought that perhaps I had buried myself on that planet after all.

* * *

It was very early in the morning when Harry found me curled into a corner near the replicator, buried in a pile of blankets.

"Computer, lights to thirty percent," he ordered groggily. Kneeling down beside me, he dug me out of the blankets before placing a hand to my forehead. "Shit. Talia, you're drenched. Why did you replicate all these blankets? Are you sick?"

I blinked.

Harry grasped both of my shoulders firmly. "Talia? Are you with me?"

I nodded.

My mind reeled with questions. How long had I been frozen in the ice? How had I even gotten here? Why wasn't I in my quarters?

Meanwhile, Harry left to fetch a tricorder. By the time he returned and began checking my vitals, I had shoved away the rest of the covers, exposing my slick skin to the ambient air.

I was no longer so cold, but I still did not know what temperature I felt like.

"No fever," Harry murmured. "Everything looks fine."

He snapped the tricorder shut and let out a sigh. Then, stretching a hand out to my face, he lightly stroked the skin from my temple down to my chin. "What happened, _ja'lat_?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Can you tell me anything? Why were you wrapped in all those blankets?"

"Cold," I whispered.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

I closed my eyes and tried to think back. Failing to remember, I opened them again and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"No."

"Do you want to stay here?"

I paused, letting myself consider the thought. Then, I shook my head. "No."

"Tell me what you need from me, Talia. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know."

He sighed. "Okay. How about a nice sonic shower? Would that help you feel better?"

Again, I paused. Then, I nodded.

Harry led me to the bathroom and helped me undress, raising goosebumps as his fingers gently brushed along my sweaty skin. Divesting himself of his own clothes, he activated the sonic shower and led me to stand in front of it, its pulsing vibrations gently lifting and dissolving every particle of grime from my body.

When I leaned back against Harry's chest, he slipped his arms around my waist and pressed a tender kiss to the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

I sighed. It felt so good. He felt so good.

One kiss was followed by another... and another.

For the first time since I had left on that fateful scouting mission so long ago, I relaxed into his touch. My head lolled to one side. He carefully undid the band that held my hair, loosening the long, copper waves before he swept them over one shoulder so that they cascaded down over my breast.

I inhaled deeply as he continued to cover my neck in gentle kisses. Rolling my head back to rest against his chest, I laced my fingers with his and pulled him closer.

But then I became aware of his unintentional arousal, and an awful flare of panic shattered the sweet moment with searing heat. Seemingly out of nowhere — insofar as Harry would be able to tell, at least — I started to cry.

It began with a jarring sob that escaped my lips, making Harry stop in his tracks to ask if he'd hurt me somehow. I shook my head, and then my whole body was trembling with the violent onset of terror. My shoulders began to curl over my chest and my knees gave out beneath me.

I could smell dirt. I could taste it. I breathed it and I bled it. It corrupted everything, and so did I.

Harry caught me and slowly guided me to the floor, still bracing my body against his. Then, once we were sitting, he turned me towards himself and began to rock me gently back and forth, murmuring soft words of comfort into my ear.

"I'm sorry," I finally choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry —"

"Shh," he soothed. "Talia, hey. It's okay. You're alright. I'm here. I love you."

"I can't." I pulled my knees into my chest and hugged them tightly. "I can't," I repeated, even as he continued to try to calm me. "I can't. I'm sorry. I can't."

Harry squeezed me tightly. "It's okay —"

"No!" I shouted at him, breaking my grip on my legs, wrenching free of his grasp, and scrambling along the floor to get away from him. "It's not okay! It's not! Nothing is okay! I ruined —" I gasped for air as a sob choked me, "— everything. Why? What's wrong with me? I didn't mean to. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"I know, Talia," he insisted calmly. "You did nothing wrong. You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault."

My mind refused to register his comforting words. It had been caught in the rapids of panic and dragged under the surface. On some level, I knew I was being irrational. But when I looked to Harry and saw him covered in dirt, the last echo of sanity within me was pulled under the water and began to drown.

Frantically, my eyes darted around the room as I realized that everything — everything — was soiled. Dirt had smeared across the floor where I dragged myself away from Harry. It was on my clothes, piled in the corner. It covered the sonic shower panel.

Everywhere. It was everywhere.

I tried to scrub it from my skin, but it just kept getting thicker. I begged Harry to help me, but it filled my mouth until I choked on it.

It was burying me alive.

I clawed at myself desperately as the dirt continued to build and harden all over my body. My mouth was open, alternately screaming for help and gasping for air, but I felt like I was accomplishing neither. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard Harry com for an emergency medical beam-out. I could practically feel myself being crushed to death under the weight of my own failures.

But then, there was light.

It was warm and radiant, bursting forth from within and burning away all of the corruption that had tried to bury me. Reaching into the depths of my mind, it dragged my sanity back up to the surface so that I could breathe again. It wrapped itself around my bare skin to give me clean clothes, and then it laid me gently in a bed of the most perfect softness and warmth.

Sleep, said a gentle voice that I recognized right away. It was Kes, saving me yet again from my own self-destruction. _You're safe now, Talia. Sleep._

And so I did.

* * *

My memories of the following days were fragmentary at best.

The first time I woke up on _Voyager_ , I tackled Captain Janeway to the floor because _Marnah_ threatened to have her assimilated.

On a different day, every console in sickbay was screaming horrible things at me — each one speaking in a different language — until I couldn't even hear Harry talking anymore.

Still another occasion ended with me being restrained and sedated because I scratched my arms until they bled. It was my desperate attempt to scrape away the dirt that lingered within my skin from Rojel's grave.

The next time I awoke, it was Chakotay who kept watch over me. He was sitting quietly at my bedside, reading a somewhat-weathered copy of Dante's _Inferno_.

" _Midway upon the journey of our life_ ," I quoted aloud, " _I found myself within a forest dark; for the straightforward pathway had been lost_."

Chakotay looked up, a bit startled at first, and met my gaze before allowing a relieved smile to blossom across his face.

" _Ah, me_ ," I continued. " _How hard a thing it is to say; what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear_."

"I didn't know you were a fan of Dante," Chakotay said, closing the book and leaning towards me.

I shrugged weakly. "My grandmother loves that book."

He nodded. "I should have guessed. This one is Kathryn's."

I hummed. "Not what I would expect."

"How are you feeling?"

"Drugged, anxious, exhausted... I've been better."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I closed my eyes to think back, but everything was blurred together. "I don't know," I whispered. "I think I remember being restrained, but it's hard to hold onto the images."

Chakotay slipped his hand into mine. "Don't stress over it. Maybe it's better that you can't remember."

I opened my eyes and searched the depths of his familiar dark-brown ones. "What's wrong with me, Tay?"

A heavy sigh escaped from his lips, and he gave my hand a squeeze. "You're very sick, Talia. We put you back on duty too soon. You were sent on a mission, but something went wrong. It stressed you out. When we got back, you suffered a psychotic break."

"Did I hurt anybody?"

Chakotay shook his head. "No. But you tried to hurt yourself. That's when you were restrained."

I turned my head to look up at the ceiling, closing my eyes to force the tears out. "I remember the planet — the one in the gravity sinkhole. I died there, and now I'm just a ghost. You know that's why I'm so fucked up, right? And why the nanoprobes can't assimilate me. They want to, but they can't, because I'm not really here. I'm frozen in the ice at the bottom of the well."

My friend looked at me as if he wanted to cry. "We're getting you out of the ice, Talia."

I shook my head. "This is my punishment."

"For what?"

"I rejected _Marnah's_ purpose for me. Turned away from the Prophets. I became selfish."

"What are you talking about? What purpose?"

" _Ah'no Eelo Talia Kendra'yan, tahl'ral melar's Bajor-B'hava'el._ "

"I don't understand," Chakotay said.

"She made me for a purpose. She played with the charter; thirty-one rigged the game. I didn't want to play, but the gods forced me in. I was the carrier, the Prophet-bearer. Annika needed me, but I fell out of time. I didn't have what she needed, because I'm a ghost now. She sacrificed herself instead. But we've exchanged the queens too soon."

I shook my head as I began to cry. How could I explain the weight of all my failures when logic kept slipping through my fingers? "I don't know what I'm saying, Tay. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know —"

With his free hand, Chakotay began to wipe at my tears with a soft piece of cloth. "Shh, Talia. It's okay. You've been through a lot. You don't need to know anything right now."

"It's too soon for the endgame," I whimpered. "Too soon... too soon. It's too soon."


	27. Could We Pretend

**Could We Pretend**

 _CW: Unprocessed grief from pregnancy loss_

* * *

It took a few more days for my sense of reality to shift back to normal. When it did shift, it happened quite suddenly. I woke up on a Sunday morning, and it was as if the lights in my mind had been turned on after so much time left in darkness. I still didn't know what to make of everything I had experienced and learned, but I was alone within my own mind — peaceful, and calm.

Harry was more stressed out and exhausted than I had ever seen him — terrified of losing me again to psychosis. Although he never stopped being the bedrock that I had relied upon for so long, neither one of us knew how to talk to each other at all.

He slept on a cot beside my bed, yet I felt more alone than I knew how to handle.

Once, I asked if Tom was being kept away on purpose, or if he was avoiding me. Harry admitted that he honestly did not know; they had not spoken outside of duty since our rescue from the gravitational anomaly. I started to cry, worried that I had ruined the best friendship I had ever known. Long after the tears dried, I was lost inside the shadow of my guilt.

The next day, Tom finally came to visit.

He stepped inside of the privacy field, looking terribly anxious about how I might react. Yet when I threw my arms around his neck and wept, he held me the way he used to on that dead, desert planet.

"I'm sorry, Tal," he whispered in my ear. "I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I thought that — God — I thought it might be better if I stayed away. I didn't want to get in between you and Harry. But, I fucked up. I should have been here sooner. I'm sorry."

I couldn't make myself formulate words; for a long while, I simply cried.

At last releasing my grip, I reached out with hesitation to reacquaint myself with the contours of his face. He said nothing, but gave himself over to being whatever my fractured mind and bleeding heart needed from him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Tom shook his head. "No, Tal. It's not —"

"Please don't say it isn't my fault. Harry says that every day. Everyone does. I'm fucking sick of hearing it."

He immediately shut his mouth.

I sighed and hung my head. "I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help, and here I am —"

Tom gently pressed his fingers to the underside of my chin, tilting my face up as he lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was light as a butterfly, with just the slightest tickle of suction, making it equal parts tender and chaste. Barely a sound was made when it broke, for we allowed the kiss to both blossom and wilt in its own natural time.

When it was finished, Tom rested his forehead against mine. "If you hadn't kissed me that night, I would have kissed you myself. It would have happened either way. So I hope you can actually believe me when I tell you that it was not your fault."

Swallowing my protest, I said nothing. My head and my chest felt like churning waves of so many emotions that I couldn't have possibly focused on just one, even if I tried. Instead, I accepted his words into the current, and let it be.

Tom's fingers traced upward to collect the tears rolling down my cheeks. "I'm sorry for being such an asshole lately. I hope you can forgive me."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to forgive."

"Yes," he insisted, "there is. And, somehow, I will fix it."

"Tom," I called, shifting the conversation away from our pointless groveling. "Can I — I mean, will you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Well, it's —" I turned away, casting my gaze to the side and down. "You can say no, you know, if you're not comfortable with it."

Tom's hand cupped the side of my face, gently bringing it back around towards his. His eyes were piercingly blue. "Just ask, Tal."

I bit my lip and took a breath. "Will you... will you lay with me? Just for a little while?"

Tom smiled. "Yeah. I can do that."

It was easy to arrange ourselves comfortably together on that narrow biobed. With an arm, he pulled me close to his chest. The way his body curled around mine, it was as if we had been born to hold each other this way. Why had it taken me many years, and losing so much of myself, to finally notice?

"Tom," I murmured.

He hummed into my hair.

"Thank you."

With the arm around my waist, he squeezed me tightly.

"I've missed this," I admitted. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

"I got so used to having you with me every night." My throat tightened, and I swallowed back the threatening sob. "Before the com signal came through, you said you loved me. But the night after we got the message from _Voyager_... you wouldn't touch me at all. You couldn't look me in the eyes. And I missed you so much."

"I know. God, Tal, I'm so sorry about how I treated you. It wasn't... I didn't know how to handle any of it. It was too much. Not that that's any excuse."

"I love you, Tom. What I said down there... I meant it." Tears dripped from my eyes onto the bed. "I'm in love with you."

For a long moment, Tom didn't reply. He shifted his head, buried his nose in my hair, and sighed heavily.

"Please say something," I whispered.

Then, with a shaky intake of air, he asked. "Why couldn't you have figured this out six years ago?"

The question marred my grief with confusion. "What?"

"In the Maquis," Tom explained. "When you spent the night with me, on my cargo ship."

Turning over to face him, I studied his affect for confirmation that this was another one of his poorly-planned jokes. His eyes were fixed on mine, not backing down from scrutiny. He was dead serious.

"What are you saying, Tom?"

He snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Tal, I was in love with you."

"No." I shook my head, my mind resisting his admission and scrambling for memories to support what I knew to be true. "No. You were with Seska."

"Seska? Are you kidding me right now, Talia? That wasn't even a relationship! We fucked; that's all."

"Not the way she told it," I grumbled, the old bitterness I used to feel for her rising up inside of me again.

"And you believed her?"

"No, of course not! No. I just — I knew what kind of a person she was, and I was _concerned_ for you."

A knowing smile crept onto his lips. "You were jealous!"

"I was not!"

He grinned fully. "Yes, you were! You were _so_ jealous! God, no wonder you hated her. That's two men you liked that she fucked. It's almost like she did it on purpose."

I rolled my eyes. "She didn't know. Besides, that didn't stop you from taking me to bed."

Tom tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "Because, Tal, I loved you."

My eyes closed at the warmth of his touch. I wanted to believe him. He had seemed so different that night — not the broken, self-loathing man he became after Caldik Prime. It was like being young together again, when we thought we could be anything. Somehow, it slipped my notice that he fell in love with me.

Yet, if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that I knew, even then, it was the first time we actually made love. Until coming together on the gravity planet, it had been the only time.

In the Maquis, I was surrounded by Bajorans. I should have felt at home, as _Marnah_ did. But the truth was, they were not my people — not in the same sense that they were hers. The injustices that united them had never been part of my experience, and made me an outsider.

I hid my unhappiness as much as I could, but the loneliness was suffocating.

Tom's return to the Maquis gave me a sense of joy that I had forgotten how to recognize. Being with him meant more to me than just the pleasure of sex. It felt like coming home.

Not long after that, Chakotay was recruited into the Maquis. I promptly transferred to his cell. For weeks, I didn't see Tom or communicate with him at all. When I finally got a chance to meet him in-person, Chakotay had the crew neck-deep in repairs. Still, I managed to break away late one night.

"I went to see you," I confessed, "just before you were arrested."

Tom cupped my face in his hand, and I opened my eyes to him. "You came to see me? After you told me you were busy working with Chakotay?"

"I begged off early. I —" Pausing, I took a breath and wet my lips. "Our night, it meant a lot to me. More than I knew what to do with. I don't know if it was love, or loneliness, but I — I had to see you before you left."

His thumb stroked my cheek.

"You didn't answer when I pinged you, so I let myself in. And then —" My chest tightened, and I drew a shaky breath. "And then I saw why you missed my com."

Tom closed his eyes and sighed. "Yalot."

"I saw you two together, up against the con he had just helped you rebuild. You were both so caught up in each other, you didn't hear me come in... or see me leave."

"Talia." Wrapping his arms around me tight, he pulled me close to himself as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I thought you didn't want to come. I thought... I mean, I'd heard rumors about you and Chakotay, so I thought..." He sighed. "Why did you ever give me the time of day?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't just you. Neither one of us has ever been good at sharing our feelings."

Tom huffed a laugh. "Yeah, that's for damn sure."

Our limbs were tangled together on the biobed, making the most of limited space. I breathed deeply, relishing the scent of sage on his skin. I wanted so badly to taste him — to feel him move inside of my skin. It wouldn't take much. With the privacy screen cutting off the surgical area from the rest of sickbay, we could easily make it work as long as we both stayed very quiet.

Who had a right to judge us anyway? It should have been us together all along. It could have been, even after I found him in that compromising position, if not for Starfleet arresting him the very next day. For all the heartache and rage we incited within each other, we never passed judgement. We always forgave, because we were so similar.

But as my body trembled at the thought of Tom's naked touch, my mind recalled his own words like an echo in a cave. Suddenly, my desire went cold.

"You loved me," I murmured.

"I did," he confirmed.

"But you don't any more."

Pulling away so he could look me in the eyes, my heart jumped at the hope that perhaps he was about to disprove my accusation and declare himself still very much in love with me. For a moment, he almost looked ready to argue.

Almost.

He took a deep breath, and his expression turned sad. "I do love you, Tal. I really, honestly do. But not in the way you want me to. Not anymore."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips. "Then why — why did you say you loved me on that planet?"

"I did," he insisted. "I do. But not the way I love B'Elanna, or the way you love Harry. I thought we were on the same page about that."

He was right. We had talked about it the morning after. At the time, I believed that I felt the same. It wasn't until after our return to _Voyager_ that I realized something had changed.

"I didn't mean to feel differently," I whispered. "I guess it just... happened. When we were rescued, I tried... but I couldn't go back to how it was before. I tried to want this life again, but all I wanted was you. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," he whispered.

I let the silence settle in between us, and he did not break it. After a while, I did.

"It used to come so easily," I admitted, "being with Harry. But now —"

"I know."

"I changed, Tom. And he wasn't there. He's trying so hard to be everything I need him to be, and it's not that I don't love him — I do, I love him so much — but I... I don't know."

"Have you really changed so much, Tal? You've been through hell, a few times over, in just a few months. Of course you're going to think and act differently. But that doesn't mean you're a different person."

I recoiled. "What are you saying? Do you think this is my fault?"

"No —"

"That I don't love my own husband?"

"Of course not."

"Then what, Tom? What are you accusing me of? What am I doing wrong?"

"Talia," Tom said firmly, his grip on me tightening. "Listen to me. I'm not here to accuse you of anything, okay? You do more than enough of that to yourself."

I gasped, feeling the sting of his words almost like a knife cutting into my skin.

"You are an amazing, strong, caring, brilliant, wonderful person. I'd give anything to help you see that, just like you do for me. Look, I know I don't deserve your faith right now, but please... can you trust me?"

I nodded, and blinked hot tears out of my eyes.

"You haven't fallen out of love with Harry. At the beginning, relationships are this mind-altering high of passion, which eventually wears off. With you and Harry, it left behind something much more incredible than anything you and I ever had.

"On that planet, when we were stranded, we found passion again — together. But, we both know what happens when our passion burns off; we push each other around until we forget how we got there in the first place. You need Harry's stability to make it last. And I —" He paused, and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know why B'Elanna and I worked. We really shouldn't have. But, somehow, we did."

"She calls you out on your bullshit," I murmured, "with no ulterior motives. What you see is what you get. After a lifetime of being manipulated by people you love, it's refreshing to love someone you don't have to be suspicious of. With her, you know it's safe to be yourself. With her, you're free."

Tom chuckled. "Goddamn, you're good."

I shrugged demurely. "I know you."

"Better than anyone," he agreed with a tender smile. "My point is, what you have with Harry is new for you. You've never had a relationship that could survive conflict after the passion is gone. But just because it's unfamiliar doesn't mean it's a threat. You don't have to defend yourself from him. I know a lot of people have hurt you where you're vulnerable — that includes me. But he isn't like that. He won't hurt you on purpose. And right now, he's hurting, too."

"You think I don't know that, Tom?" I snapped. "I can't take it. I can't handle his pain."

"I'm not saying you have to. Just talk to him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't."

"That's not an answer," he scolded gently. "Why can't you talk to him?"

"Because —" I began to argue, but I had no words to explain the brick wall that had separated me from my husband. I didn't know why that wall was there or how it had been built, but there it was. I couldn't move past it, so I avoided it instead.

"I don't know," I whispered. "There's something in the way."

Then, something occurred to me. Perhaps it was not some _thing_ that had gotten in the way, but — "Some _one_."

Tom tensed. "Me?"

I shook my head, unable to speak. The name — _his_ name — was one I had not said aloud ever since we had returned to _Voyager_. My own son had become my greatest source of shame.

My worst failure.

I swallowed the hard stone of grief that had been suffocating me all this time. "Rojel," I whispered hoarsely. Then, I began to cry.

For a moment, Tom was silent. "I don't get it," he admitted. "How is Rojel in the way of you talking to Harry?"

"He wants... to talk." My words broke over sobs like a boat thrown against the rocks by a stormy sea.

"I still don't follow —"

"About Rojel." I drew in a gasping breath. "Harry wants to process his grief... with me. And I... I just want to move on."

"Oh." Tom was silent for a longer moment before hesitantly asking, "Why don't you just tell him that?"

I lifted a hand to wipe away the tears. "He won't... he thinks I have to talk about it."

"You're the counselor, Tal. Tell him he's wrong."

"Even if he may be right?"

"Absolutely," Tom assured me. "It's better than what I'd tell him."

"Which is...?"

"To fuck off."

I laughed. It felt strange and almost alien, but I actually laughed. Forgotten, my tears slowed to a stop. "That's essentially what I've been doing."

He chuckled. "There's the Talia I know."

I laced my fingers with his. "You're right. I can't keep avoiding Harry. I just — I don't know where to start."

"Like this, Tal. Like we're doing right now. Just be honest."

That was when I finally recognized the feeling standing in my way. "I'm scared."

Tom pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Yeah, I know. So is he."

For a while, we allowed the silence to linger. I did not know how much time passed, but it was comforting to simply exist with my friend after such a hard talk. Perhaps it was intimacy, rather than passion, that I longed for most of all.

And intimacy required honesty, just as he said.

"Tom," I murmured into the silence.

"Hmm?"

"If you hadn't been arrested, and we had gotten the chance to figure things out, do you think it could have worked — you and I?"

Tom shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Then again, we already failed once before."

"As teens," I pointed out.

"True. Still, we were both a mess in the Maquis."

I nodded, knowing he was right.

"But either way," he continued, squeezing my hands in his, "we would have gone down swinging."

I smiled, and squeezed back. "Yeah. That definitely sounds like us."


	28. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Someone to Watch Over Me**

 _ **Author Note:** So, this is not the final chapter after all, because I decided to split it. Much like Tom in the last chapter, a few other characters had some important things to say before the story's end, and they needed more room to speak than I had planned. I hope y'all don't mind._

* * *

By the end of the week, I had completed the neurosynaptic therapy treatments and stabilized on medication. Harry and Captain Janeway began the work of moving things back to our quarters, while Dr. Schmullis insisted on performing one last assessment. Given the limitations of _Voyager's_ small and generally equipped sickbay, I did not question him when he took his mobile emitter and escorted me to the holodeck.

"Computer," he ordered as we stood outside the holodeck doors, "activate program Schmullis-alpha-seven."

We entered into a very calm Chez Sandrine's being projected throughout the room. Dim, yellow lighting was enhanced by candlelight flickering atop open tables and an empty bar. Soft music flowed from a self-playing baby grand that had taken the space normally occupied by two pool tables. None of Tom's usual characters were active.

I shot the doctor a confused look.

"You are in perfect health," he said. "Your synapses are functioning normally, and your psychiatric symptoms have abated. Given some time to adjust, I believe that you will be ready to return to duty. But there is one problem I have yet to correct."

"And that is…?"

"Your guilt."

I frowned. "You're a doctor, not a counselor."

"Naturally. But you can't very well counsel yourself."

I crossed my arms and sighed. "Schmullis —"

"If it will make you feel any better, I have no intentions of counseling you. I wouldn't even know where to begin. In fact, I brought you here because I was rather hoping I could share something with you."

I furrowed my brow, but quickly wiped my expression clean. "Okay. Should we sit?"

He didn't move; his feet were rooted to the floor. Instead, he looked up and gestured around the room with his hands. "I saved a copy of the Sandrine's program for myself. For —"

Schmullis paused, sucked in a nervous breath — an ironic thing for a hologram to do — and then said, "I saved it for Annika. She came to me a few months ago and asked if I had any programs for practicing human romantic customs. I told her about my own experience on the matter, and suggested that she try asking someone on a date. It… didn't go so well. I offered to take her on a date myself so she could experience it with a friend, and so I could coach her."

All the air seemed to go out of the room. The pain of Schmullis' confession filled my chest with an aching chill.

"As I was thinking about where to bring her and what to do," he continued, "I started to realize that, for the first time since Denara, I was falling in love. I had fallen in love... with Annika. I… I love her. I was going to bring her here for our date and tell her how I felt, but we never had the time. And then —"

Tears slipped from my eyes.

Finally, Schmullis looked at me. "The truth of the matter, Commander, is that this has been my failing more than anyone else's. I can't go into detail on why I should have recommended against Annika's assignment to the mission, or how her absence could have been compensated for; suffice it to say that if I had done things differently, she might still be with us."

I shook my head. "Schmullis —" Swallowing my impulse to invalidate his guilt, I laid a hand on his arm. "I don't know whatever it is that you know. And I don't know why Annika did what she did. But thinking back on it now, with a clear head —"

Wetting my lips, I tried to explain to him what I had pieced together. "On our way to the sphere, Annika admitted to me that she was nervous, but said it was necessary for her to go on the mission. She also said that she had come to value happiness, that she found it worth preserving, protecting, and sharing with other people."

Schmullis' face brightened slightly with a sad smile.

"Before she attacked me, she said, 'I'm sorry.' After the charges blew, Mike and I were nowhere near the transport coordinates when we were beamed back to _Equinox_ , which was still under cloak. Only Annika could have done that, by tapping into the sphere's own systems. Harry couldn't beam her out because she integrated herself with the ship, and her lifesigns disappeared. Something wasn't right — something she didn't tell us. I don't know what it was, or why she kept it a secret; but I do think that if she hadn't been there, we could very well have been killed or assimilated that day. She saved us, Schmullis, because we were her collective. She gave herself for us."

"Perhaps," Schmullis said somberly. "Somehow, that still doesn't make me feel better about it."

"No," I reflected, "I suppose not."

"A few days ago, I spoke with Chief Torres about the possibility of reprogramming me — to get rid of this dreadful human need for love. I assumed that, given the current state of her love life, she would be sympathetic to my plight."

I winced at the mention of B'Elanna's name, and the cause of her pain.

Schmullis pursed his lips. "I couldn't have been more wrong. She wasn't sympathetic at all. She said that pain was part of love, and I had to learn to live with it. I insisted; I was well aware of that fact, and I wanted to forego the entire romantic process — the good and the bad. Still, she refused."

"Why?"

"She told me she was jealous. ' _I wish I had the option to just flip a switch and not feel the pain_.' But then she said, she had to believe it was still worth it. Even though love never seemed to work out, it made her a better person. She told me that I needed to stick it out like everyone else; I might see things differently later."

Taking me gently by the elbow and leading me to the piano, he slid onto the bench and tugged me down to sit beside him. "I've decided that the chief is right; I have to stay, exactly as I am, and face the truth. If I could go back and make things happen differently, then of course I most certainly would. But I can't change the past. What I can do, however, is to change _this_ moment right now. And right now, I could use a friend. So, if you're willing to stay and help me through my heartbreak, then I promise that I will stay and help you through yours."

Tears streamed down my face, yet I smiled through them at his kindness. Reaching for his hand, I gave it a grateful squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, Schmullis."

Sandwiching my hand between both of his, Schmullis returned my smile. "It's good to have you back, Commander."

"Thank you," I replied, "for coming after me."

When he didn't say anything else, I deactivated the self-play feature on the piano. "Play something," I asked.

He smiled, turned to the keys, and slowly tapped out the accompaniment to an old Terran jazz song as he began to sing.

" _There's a saying old, says that love is blind. Still I'm often told, 'Seek and ye shall find.' So I'm going to seek a certain lady I've had in mind_."

As the doctor played, I smiled to myself, closed my eyes, and let the music soothe my wounded soul.

" _I'd like to add her initial to my monogram. Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb? There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that she turns out to be, someone who'll watch over me_."

* * *

When we left the holodeck, Schmullis offered to walk me back to my quarters. I thanked him, and turned him down. There was someone else I needed to see before I went home to Harry. I wasn't even sure this person would let me in, but I had to try.

Tapping the chime to B'Elanna's quarters, I was relieved that she accepted my visit right away.

For a long and awkward moment, we simply stared at each other. She was sitting comfortably on her couch, reading a PADD. I stood rigidly, just inside the doorway, willing my heart to quiet down.

Setting the PADD on her coffee table, B'Elanna broke the silence. "You wanna sit down?"

I blinked, gave a nod, and compelled my feet forward. "Yes, thank you."

"So, you're out?"

I settled into the chair across from her. "Yes. Schmullis just released me."

She looked confused. "And... you came here?"

"I need to make this right," I insisted.

B'Elanna waved her hand at me dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. I'd rather just forget the whole thing and move on."

After what Schmullis had told me, I wanted to challenge her on that point. I restrained the urge. "I'd like a chance to explain."

"Really, Talia, you don't have to explain anything."

"Please," I begged.

Looking somewhat surprised by the desperation in my tone, she nodded her head. "Alright."

"Thank you," I said. As she watched me expectantly, however, I realized that I had no idea what I wanted to say. How could I possibly convey everything I felt about this mess of a situation?

"It's, um..." I worried my lip between my teeth and fidgeted with my hands in my lap. "Tom and I — well, you already know this — we broke up in secondary school. But even after that, we would still seek each other out from time to time for, ah..."

"Sex," B'Elanna bluntly finished for me. "Yeah, I know that, too."

I winced at the harshness of her tone, but pressed on. "On _Voyager_ , things were different. Sure, most everyone picked up on a certain tension between us, but we didn't sleep together. We never talked about it, either; maybe we should have. Even so, I think we both grew up here. And, we fell in love with other people."

A muscle twitched in B'Elanna's jaw.

"On that planet —" My throat tightened, and I choked.

"You really don't have to do this," she insisted.

I blinked back the rising tears. "In all the years I've known him, I've never seen him so... overwhelmed. He took it hard — losing you. He grieved for months. And he was also terrified of losing me. I don't think he knew how to cope with it all. I know I didn't. I wanted to die. I tried to, but Tom refused to let me go. He begged me not to give up, and I... I just wanted to feel something good again. It was my fault, not his. We were together for a total of two days. He ended it when _Voyager's_ transmission came through."

B'Elanna stared down at her hands. "And since then?"

"He didn't touch me, not the entire time we waited for extraction."

She nodded. "That must have been hard."

"Obviously, I didn't handle it well."

"There was a lot going on," B'Elanna insisted, looking up at me. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"Perhaps not," I conceded. "But, it's hard not to be. After I came through surgery, Harry told me about what happened with you and Tom. Tom wouldn't even speak to me until a few days ago. When he finally came to visit..." I sighed. "He loves you, B'Elanna — _only_ you. He never stopped, not even for me. All he wants is another chance to show you. He wants to make it right."

B'Elanna huffed and shook her head. "He doesn't get it, and neither do you."

"I know."

"No, you don't know," she said firmly. "This isn't about me being jealous of you, or thinking that Tom can't love me if he loves you. This is my issue that I need to work out on my own. If he moves on, fine. If he waits for me, great. If he wants to be your side bitch, I don't care. This is about me and my problems, okay? This is not about either one of you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but B'Elanna held up a hand. "And before you ask — no, I don't want to talk about it."

At that, I snorted. "Fair enough. But can I say just one more thing?"

Folding her arms again across her chest, she nodded. "Shoot."

"If you're waiting to be ready for love and commitment, you'll be waiting your entire life. Nothing makes you ready for committing yourself to someone else, other than actually living out that kind of commitment."

"This from someone whose marriage is on the rocks before their second anniversary," she muttered.

I winced.

B'Elanna sighed, hanging her head and dropping her arms to her sides. "Sorry. That was a shit thing to say."

"Not wrong, though. And certainly something I deserve to hear."

B'Elanna's head snapped up, and she fixed her eyes firmly onto mine. "No, you don't deserve that. You're a good person."

"I don't feel like a good person."

"If you weren't a good person, I'd have ripped your throat out for stealing my _par'Machkai_ and breaking my best friend's heart."

"You still can."

A playful smile teased the edges of her lips. "No. We'll call this one a warning."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Just don't fuck it up this time. Now, get your ass home; your husband is probably worried about you."

I smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Yes, ma'am."

Just as I approached the doors, B'Elanna called me to a pause.

I turned around and looked at her.

"You, uh, it'll be your job to read through Crewman Hansen's personal logs before making your final report on her, right?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she answered in a tone that indicated otherwise. After a brief pause, she seemed to change the subject. "I know engines have never been your strong suit, but you got pretty handy with doing repairs on the _Valjean_ , and you know more about the Borg than anyone else here. If you have any ideas for how to integrate those transwarp coils into our systems... you'd be welcome to give it a shot."

I quirked my lips to one side. "You mean they didn't come with an instruction manual?"

She shrugged. "There may be one lying around somewhere, but I haven't found it yet."

"I'll let you know if I think of anything you haven't tried yet."

"Thanks." B'Elanna gave me a slight smile. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me, too," I said.

As I left her quarters, and turned to face my own, I noticed that it seemed so much easier to breathe. I wasn't afraid to go home anymore, or to face any of the crew.

I was determined to make things right.


	29. We Can Only Go On

**We Can Only Go On**

 _CW: Discussion of difficult topics related to past chapters (grief, pregnancy loss, mental illness, sexual encounters, marital discord, death)_

* * *

When the turbolift doors slid open on deck three, I startled slightly at the sight of someone else standing in front of me. "Captain Janeway," I said, snapping to a posture of attention.

She smiled teasingly. "At ease, Talia, before you sprain something."

Relaxing my stance, I shook my head and laughed at myself. "Reflex," I explained as I stepped out of the turbolift. "I should have anticipated running into you, but my mind was elsewhere."

With a look of compassion, the captain placed a hand on my shoulder. "I understand. All personal items have been moved back to your quarters from sickbay, and I have just dropped off the storage unit you asked for."

"Thank you," I said. "Think he'll open it before I get there?"

She shook her head. "No. He's waiting for you."

"Well, then," I said, "I suppose I should get back."

Janeway brought her other hand up to my shoulder, and gave both a supportive squeeze. Then, she wrapped her arms around me, drawing me into a tight embrace. "It's good to have you back, Talia," she murmured.

I didn't know what to say, so I simply hugged her and let the moment linger for as long as it needed to.

* * *

The first moments after I entered my quarters were thick with tension. For a while we simply stared at each other — Harry and I — unsure of how to begin.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "I put all of our stuff away."

"Good. Thank you."

Another awkward silence.

"What is this?" Harry asked, pointing at the storage container the captain had left for me.

"It's my _duranja_ ," I informed him. "It's for Annika... and for Rojel."

A strong gust of air burst from his lips. "That's the first time I've heard you say his name since we lost him."

I wrapped my arms around my waist. "I know."

As he stared at me, a brief flicker of hope gave way to confusion and agony. He pursed his lips, swallowed whatever it was that his impulses wanted him to say, and nodded.

"You're angry, aren't you?"

"It's not your fault," came his reflexive reply.

"I know," I said, and for once I actually meant it.

Schmullis was right; I had to forgive myself for things I did in response to circumstances beyond my control. It was the only way to heal from the heartbreak I felt inside of myself, and it was only from a place of healing that I could begin to reconnect with others.

Still, it did not change the fact that I had hurt Harry. "We both know that I was sick," I told him. "Not guilty by reason of insanity. It doesn't change how we feel. It doesn't invalidate my feelings of guilt, or your feelings of anger. And acting like it does only represses the feelings."

Harry crossed his arms. "You planning to be our marriage therapist now?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not —"

"Because I feel like that might be a conflict of interests."

"Harry." I sighed, then quickly looked away as tears sprung into my eyes. Grabbing at the shirt fabric gathered around my waist, I tightened my own embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"We have to find a way to talk about this, Harry. I need to know what honestly upsets you, whether you think it's valid or not. Otherwise, we'll never work through it. Otherwise, we'll never be able to talk to each other about anything that matters, and we'll lose all that we have together."

"Do you still want this?"

The question came without warning, and was delivered with such calm that he could have just as easily been asking what Neelix had on the menu that day. I blinked, and licked my lips. "Yes, I do."

"Because, lately, it's seemed like you don't want me anymore."

"I do, Harry," I insisted. When the skeptical look on his face remained unchanged, I knew that I needed to find another way to tell him. " _Aka'no ja'ahkaya per ja'ital. Abrem non'shu_."

His expression softened, but he still wasn't convinced.

"The truth, Harry, is this: I didn't expect to come back. When I woke up in sickbay, I couldn't process it. I had grieved for Rojel, for you, and for _Voyager_ already... for five months. And, I let you go. I thought I was going to die. I was ready to die — I wanted to. When Tom broke down, it was because he knew, and he couldn't stand another loss. I only intended to find comfort for us both. I didn't mean... to fall in love. But I did.

"Then came the message from _Voyager_. Suddenly everything I thought... it wasn't true. I couldn't make my reality match yours. Even the way I experienced time was discordant. My universe didn't make sense to me anymore. I had been ready to die and be released from it all. But then I was here, and I had to find a way to live with it. Except, I couldn't. It was too much. Everything felt wrong, like I didn't belong here anymore. Like I wasn't your Talia anymore." I hung my head. "If that makes any sense at all."

"Believe it or not, I think I actually know what you mean."

Looking up, I quietly asked, "Really?"

Harry nodded. "It's how I felt after the divergence field, after the Vidiians attacked my _Voyager_ and the captain ordered me to leave them all behind to come here."

I hung my head, a shaky sigh escaping my lips. Closing my eyes, I felt hot tears spilling onto my face. "I'm so sorry for everything. For not being what you needed. For what I've done... for how I treated you —"

"Talia, you didn't —"

"How can I forgive myself for the night you came home to fix things with me, and I... I treated you so... so horribly..."

Somewhere along the way, while I was in treatment, I had set aside that memory and nearly forgotten it. Now, it resurfaced with a vengeance. I had used him. He came to make things right with me, and I jumped him. I called him _Tom_ — had seen him as Tom through the lense of my psychosis — and I used him for sex. And he let me, because I asked him to. I sobbed as the memory replayed in my head.

I had no right to claim that I loved either one of them.

Still, Harry wrapped his arms tight around me, rocked me slowly, and murmured soft words into my ear. It took me a while to realize that he was repeating a desperate plea — "Stay with me, _ja'Talia_. Please, stay with me." His whole body was trembling, for he held onto me as if his strength alone could keep me from breaking apart again under the weight of my own guilt.

Suddenly, I realized that it wasn't just my guilt carving the canyon in between us, and that the anger I had sensed from him pointed to something deeper.

"You think you failed me," I said aloud as soon as the realization struck me. Harry's motion stopped, and his grip loosened around me so we could look each other in the face. "You feel responsible for this somehow."

"I promised to take care of you above all others," he answered, cupping his hand around my face. "To give all of myself to love you and make you happy. But I couldn't save you, and I couldn't save Rojel."

I shook my head. "Harry —"

"I know," he insisted. "None of that was in my control. But when I did get you back —"

Harry's voice cut off with a sob. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he forced the sudden rush of tears to run directly down his cheeks. "I never knew a person could be so broken," he whispered. "I didn't know what to do. All I wanted was to make you happy, but I couldn't even do that anymore. I failed you in every way, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Framing his face in my hands, I used my thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Harry," I said firmly. "Harry, listen to me. Look at me."

Obediently, he opened his swollen eyes.

"For one thing, that night —"

"I know," he insisted. "You were sick."

"That doesn't change how I hurt you. It doesn't change the fact that, no matter who I thought you were, I became the soulless piece of dirt my mind had been telling me I was since the first time Tom took me to Rojel's grave. After spending my whole life trying so hard to be the good, noble person my parents wanted me to be — even if they couldn't agree on what that was supposed to look like — I became as foul as every enemy I've fought against."

"Or," Harry countered, "maybe you needed some feel-good chemicals in your brain."

His assertion stopped me in my tracks, and I hung my head. "Isn't that supposed to be one of my lines?"

"It would be, if you were talking about anyone but yourself."

I sighed, defeated. He had a point.

"You need to forgive yourself," Harry said as he gently lifted my chin so he could look into my eyes once again. "You've apologized, and I forgive you. It's past now. Time to move on."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"How do you feel about that night, honestly?"

"It wasn't a strong moment for either one of us," he said. "I just wanted what I've always wanted — to make you happy."

I shook my head. "That's the other thing, Harry. You are _not_ responsible for ensuring my happiness. Do you understand me?"

His face scrunched with confusion. "What?"

"My happiness is not your job. You already pile enough stress onto yourself without also worrying over something that will come and go in me no matter what. I know you want to be everyone's hero. But, what is the cost? What about _your_ happiness?" I paused momentarily, and lowered my register. "What good are things like pleasure and happiness if they're not shared with others?"

Harry smiled through his drying tears. "Where did you get that one from?"

"Annika."

For a few seconds, we both honored her memory with silence.

Gently, I guided his forehead down to rest against mine. "I know that I'm hard to love sometimes, but you cannot expect yourself to fix my depression, or any other condition that piles on top of it. If you do, you'll only blame yourself for something that isn't anyone's fault. You're right to say that I'm too hard on myself, but so are you. And this guilt... it's eating us both alive."

"Then what can I do to help you?"

"Just don't give up on me. I don't want to be alone."

Tilting his chin forward, Harry whispered against my lips, "Never, _ja'lat_ ," before taking my mouth with his.

* * *

Somewhere within the darkness of my unconscious mind, a familiar voice called my attention to her.

"Talia."

"Alixia?"

"Yes."

I tried to open my eyes, but I could not connect with my body. Fear sliced through me, so visceral it almost seemed like physical pain. Was I getting sick again?

"You are not relapsing into illness," Alixia reassured me. "I am quite real. The impetus for your psychotic condition has been neutralized."

The fear dimmed to unease. "Oh."

"The final task has begun. It is time for you to learn the reason why _Voyager_ has been brought to this distant region. I will show you what you need to know, but I cannot reveal everything to you at once; it would overwhelm you. You must not act upon, share, or make any record of what I reveal until I tell you the time is right. Otherwise, all we have set into motion could be lost. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said. "When do we begin?"

In the distance, I could hear chaos— billions of voices speaking, shouting, writhing against one another. It had been a long time since they had lived within me, but it was the most familiar sense in the world.

What was not familiar, however, was the cold touch of a hand tenderly caressing my chin.

"Seven of Nine," called a dangerous and seductive female voice, "Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One."

I snapped my eyes open. Standing directly in front of me was a woman, shorter than me and more petite in build. Her face was in tact. Rather than being built into one of her eye sockets the way most drones were, this woman's cranial implants appeared to have been drilled into the top of her skull like a twisted, sadistic crown.

The woman's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good morning. Did you have pleasant dreams?"

* * *

 _ **End Note:** "Aka'no ja'ahkaya per ja'ital. Abrem non'shu.": You are my love and my light. May this be so, for always._

 _ **Author Note:** Thank you all so very much for reading this! It's a lot, I know, but now we're 2/3 of the way through this epic story together. _

_It may be a while before you start to see part three getting posted. For one thing, grad school is getting intense as hell. Also, I'll be writing the final story in chunks (rather than one chapter after another) as I pull all of these plot threads together._

 _In the meantime, come find me on tumblr (carlynroth) and look up the series tag (#far from their bones) for all kinds of extras. And let me know any thoughts, theories, or questions you have about the series._

 _Thanks!_


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